a perfect sonnet
by xoVanilla-Bean
Summary: Five years after the end of the war, Gale encounters Katniss for the first time since he's left. Reconciling with the past turns out to be just as hard, if not harder, than he imagined. — eventual GaleKatniss
1. homecoming

a/n; i started this back in august, wanted to finish it before the movie...and then i lost motivation, and then started it back up again. it's an eventual katniss/gale - and by that, i mean i'm really trying to make them grow toward each other. it might take a while. and it's gale's pov for now, set 5 years after the end. let me know what you think! :)

chapter one - homecoming

"lately, i've been wishing i had one desire  
something that would make me never want another  
something that would make it so that nothing matters  
all would be clear then" - bright eyes, a perfect sonnet

* * *

"Gale?"

He stops the tapping of his pen and looks up from the contract he's trying to read through, into catlike eyes. It's not the first time he knows she shouldn't be here, in his office, where this plan he's been working on is so close to finishing.

"What's wrong?"

"Did you not hear me?" she says, the usual amused smile and tilt of her head gone.

He keeps silent, watching the anger on her face and giving an apologetic look.

"Sorry," he finally says, once she decides not to reply. "I've just been working on this for a few weeks, and District 3 has been cooperating selflessly. I don't want to lose it."

The built up anger in her face melts into a simmer, and she considers him. "Well, don't lose yourself."

Gale smirks. "You should know by now. I'm an expert at that."

"Sure," she says, standing up from her seat across from him, and walking around the dark, wooden desk. Her fingers trail over the intricate designs engraved into the linings, which match the moldings on the legs.

Gale remembers the strange surprise he felt when he received representatives from District 7, delivering a gift to President Paylor for the recently balanced work on regulations of food and mobility among the new country. She, for no explicit reason, directed it to Gale.

"But you know what else can make you lose yourself?" she asks, turning his chair and leaning over him, placing her hands on the arm rests, trapping him with effortless ease.

"I can guess," he says. He leans back as far as he can, keeping eye contact. "But how about – "

"We don't?" she intervenes, already knowing. She lets her nose bump his. "Because I'm angry right now?"

"Reeva," he starts, grabbing her hips to keep her from straddling him. "It's not that. After I finish this deal we can celebrate."

She fights against his grip. "But it's more fun when someone's mad," she whispers, then she kisses him hard.

The thing with Reeva, though – she was always a firecracker, always finding a different way to show her colors. Unpredictable, explosive. There was no label to read before she went off, no caution warnings, no choking hazards, and that was what was so enticing about her.

When she found Gale, District 2 was off its feet and flying high with success. Paylor had a no nonsense outlook for the work that was bestowed upon her, and the respect level from the consensus was approvingly high.

Some people had come around for work, whether to gain some of the respect that had been lacking in Panem, to find something else to do with their hands, or – in a nobler idea of helping society – to assist unselfishly to the greater cause of fixing the world.

So Reeva walked into the roughly constructed helping facility, looking for something. She requested Gale.

"You were the Mockingjay's right hand man, weren't you?" Those were her first words to him, when he arrived back from a meeting – missions were few and far between now. More cooperation, less reason for fire arms, and, to his dismay, copious diplomacy. He tried to create a lessened ideal of politicians when he could, because if there was one thing he hated more than the now deadened Capitol, it was the politics the Capitol was based on.

But after that one sentence from her, he'd been compelled to answer her.

"Once upon a time," he said.

"Since you're free now…" she grinned slyly back. "Can I be yours?"

He didn't give her permission, at the beginning, to be an assistant. She was a predator on all accounts, from the way she swayed when she entered a room to the way the dust settled after she left.

She wasn't deterred. She came around, took jobs in and around with the people Gale customarily worked with. Some would brag to him about the new volunteer, who would take no money for helping communications or food supply or even secretarial work.

Whatever her motives were, Gale gave in sooner rather than later. She wasn't the first, and she was definitely not going to be the last. Gale was a practical man, and he knew better than to think she wanted kids and a husband when she could easily glorify everything she might want from him and a possible dozen others.

It seemed school girl gossip didn't end, even in a professional arena. But he was able to utilize it – whenever he needed anything, there would always be a woman around.

The perplexing thing was…Reeva kept coming back. It was slightly disconcerting.

Kissing her now, with his hands still firmly pressing into her hips, he has the power – to push away or control to the best that he can.

Sometimes, the kisses are cool and sedated, smooth, undemanding.

The ones she was giving now, however, are stinging, like smiling too wide with cracking lips. It feels just bearable, the heightening simmers right before the boil.

And the boil is what Gale hates the most.

Her lips turn into firing coals, and there's smoke underneath his tongue, ash swirling around his trachea and to his lungs. She doesn't have an end to the climax of her kisses, and it's easy to perspire in nervous agony and exhilaration. Or, it's easy to burn off your skin. It burns his skin every time. And the most unbearable twinge the smoke leaves in his stomach – the ache and the tightening – tastes like nostalgia, like the coal mines underneath District 12.

He pushes her away, just enough to see her face and how it glows, embers shining underneath her cheeks.

"I'm going to visit my family," he breathes.

She pouts through her surprise. "Now?"

He shakes his head. "After the contract. I've been neglecting them."

The embers glow even brighter, making her eyes glint. "No celebration?"

He hesitates, because it's somehow hard to turn her down. It's hard to suppress her, all the fire and flame that coalesces around her. It can choke him into submission, but he's strong enough to handle her. He's done it time and time again. She's been around long enough for him to recognize how to compact her indestructible force – but not to where he can temper and soothe himself after being with her.

But today it's different – she's a piece of mined coal instead of a raging fire. She hides it behind those glowing cheeks and snarling eyes. After all these years, Gale has a sight for these things now, just like how he knows where to set up snares. Unfortunately, he's out of practice. He's rusty. There's not much forest where he goes, not many raw struggles for survival anymore, not many people who need killing, and she's quite a different type of beast.

So he answers with a, "No."

She stands up, abrupt and stiff, fixes her appropriately red colored dress, and click-clacks her heels until she's out of the room.

Gale can only sigh in relief. He's surprised when the walls around him aren't marred with scorch marks.

* * *

Over the years, the government was a shoddy business. It was disorganized in its entirety, but still structurally functional. It took some months to get the sections together – communications, labor, transportation, commerce, and urban development especially. Others, like education and defense, were given a backseat in regards to importance.

Since defense wasn't needed, Gale was subjected to moving around according to where was the best fit. At the beginning, he was assigned urban development – or, at least, what it would have been called now. It was mostly for District 2, first cleaning up the debris and ash leftover from the rebellions, the Nut, working on housing conditions, then on the government facility itself. Teams were soon split up, moving to different districts to help, sometimes finding recruitment from the people of the districts themselves.

Gale didn't go to any different district. He was in the group sent to the Capitol.

It wasn't permanent. His quarter was set in district 2, but he'd be shipped out to the Capitol accordingly. To help with the massive clean-up, they'd tell him. Extra, sturdy hands that would get the job done. The important things, with blueprints, reworking of the original layout into another, devoid, hopefully, of the pods and the strategic gamemaker traps, were in the hands of Paylor and her closest advisers, and the old Capitol officials who were associates to Snow and his inner circle – at least, the ones who were left. Gale concluded his age may have been an issue to not be an official, if nothing else. Why else would they not have let him go? He helped create the bomb that ended it all, though he was unwitting of it at the time. They gave him a comunicuff, like it was some sort of privilege. It wasn't like he hadn't proved his worth.

But then, he couldn't be too disappointed. Being with a team to recreate the Capitol was well enough. Being able to make change was something he had dreamed for a long, long time. He just hoped desperately Paylor wouldn't make any mistakes with Snow's associates. The job would be fine in her hands, sure. He trusted her unwaveringly in that respect. It was everyone else he wasn't sure about.

As time went by, so did reconstruction. Roads built, automobiles built, trains, hovercrafts, any type of transportation that would help districts unite better. For the sake of states, the districts kept their boundaries, if only for yet another form of organization. Each one already had a designated area of expertise. It was better for that to stay the same.

Asking permission to leave for a few days granted, Gale leaves in a company hovercraft. The driver drops him off at the outskirts of Twelve, where Gale always likes to start.

Because it's like beginning. Walking through and seeing the improvements from the previous times' memories, it swells up inside, lets him float down the streets that aren't dirt anymore but actual pavement. He likes the way his shoes can bounce on it, how concrete it is, how much more stabilizing it is for his family and others.

Passing by the fence, the meadow graveyard with tiny sticks designating bodies, looking at the forest, it seems all of those remained the same. It's always remained the same here, whether because of what it symbolizes or how it remains the essence of freedom and food that will always be there, Gale isn't quite sure.

He doesn't look in the opposite direction as he passes, toward the old, broken down houses, or by the new opening in the fence.

It's a strange thing – people can take walks in the woods now, if they're careful and know how to take care of themselves. All those years sneaking in and out will only be stories now.

He passes through the Hob, which isn't the Hob any longer. It radiates with lights and bricks and life meant to last. Style that carves out its own in the regenerating world of fashion. Greasy Sae's is still Greasy Sae's, but the immaculate upkeep through the windows and into the store makes Gale wonder if she still sells wild dog and labels it as sirloin tips. The faces on the people inside are a tell tale sign that if there is a difference between the two, it doesn't mean a thing.

The sweetshop looks the same, with a bit more elbow grease in the shine. More wax in the windows, more attracting lighting on the candy in the plush pillows, watching you with a greedy eye, wanting you to be greedy in turn.

The bakery is taken up – it was closed for a while, with half of the shop destroyed from the decimation years passed. Gale doesn't notice anything new that he didn't see the last time. He's sure if he looks close enough, he'll see a hairline crack in a window, a loose knob on the entry door.

He keeps his head down, not wanting to catch much attention from the ones who remember him. Many are gone to other districts – to travel the new medium – but many are still around. He wants to be ready to greet and smile the ones he could see, but the elation he gets from seeing the district is enough for now.

By the time he gets to his house, he's anxious and excited, both emotions making the smile on his face a half-scowl. His mom will answer, like always, cheeks fuller, hands soothed with oils, face open and beaming.

It never matters how long he's gone, and he wishes he can explain the depth of his apology when she opens the door and hugs him. And she hugs him like he'll never come back, just the same as the last time, and the times before that.

"Hey, mom," he says.

"Gale," she breathes, and he feels her inhale with all of her being.

"Sorry I'm late," he tries, because it seems, it's easier to leave seriousness behind every once in a while. But it's a running joke between them, already. He's gotten less punctual with visits over the years, but he'll never let the letters pile up on his desk – family is the one thing he will never let himself lose.

But it seems time is something he'd never learned to cherish. It shows in the way his mother stares and stares at him, scared she'll forget the curve of his face.

The greatest thing, though, is looking back at her, and starting conversations with the easiest flourish.

She sets out a hearty bowl of soup for him, a side of baked potato and other experimental delicacies she always tries on him – though the delicacies are no longer delicacies, the name persists in the household. When they catch up, and he gets updates on Rory, Vick, and Posy from a real person rather than from words on paper, knowing they're in school and learning instead of striving to survive, he feels full in his chest and his stomach.

"Posy's already got boys wrapped around her finger."

Gale smiles. "She learns from the best."

"I'd rather say it runs in the family," Hazelle laughs.

They sit together on the new couch – only new because they've never had one before. But all the topics of normal chatter have been covered except one, and Gale already sighs in defeat into the cushions.

"Peeta's done well for the people here, what with the bakery. I've got to hand it to him," Hazelle says, brushing at Gale's hair. "He makes a mean croissant."

"Aren't you the bread connoisseur, now."

She shrugs. "I'm starting to become one."

He wonders how many times his mom has been in that shop, wonders what her real motive is.

"Why?" he decides to say.

She gives Gale a look and takes a moment before she explains. "Because I want to know more about the man Katniss loves."

Gale reacts with a crooked smile. "Hard to hate, isn't he?"

Hazelle shakes her head. "It's horrible. He's a sweetheart."

"I'm sure he's as selfless now as he was in the arena," he says.

"Just as selfless as you are to the world."

Gale laughs. "I don't need you to console me, mom."

She stays silent awhile, taking the time out to examine her son.

"Go say hello, Gale. To Katniss."

Gale blinks his eyes open, feeling the grasp of sleep from the after effects of lunch. It's hard to fend it off.

"It's not a good idea."

"You don't know that," she says.

"Trust me. It's not. It's too soon."

"Five years is not long enough?" Hazelle asks, and he can hear the anger in her voice. He feels the crawling of dread come around him.

"Not even close." He closes his eyes again, and it's shocking to know how fast the sleep can leave you.

It's a long time before his mother speaks. "She's still a shell of what she used to be. Not even happy, Gale," she whispers. "She doesn't hunt as often. She helps in the bakery, but it's not the same. I know it isn't."

"Does she ever complain?"

She sighs. "No."

"Then she's fine."

He can feel the disappointment from her as it radiates and reflects off him. He starts to pretend he's asleep, but he's sure he gave it away when he scowled. If she notices, she does nothing about it.

Soon, Hazelle leaves to her job of cleaning Haymitch's house – Gale has had it in him to tell her to quit the drunkard's home, but he's watched her get ready, with all her tools and equipment ready for the heavy duty task ahead of her, and decided a long time ago that she has never seemed quite as happy. Perhaps it's because she found the slot she had been looking for after everything turned on its side to normal. Normal is hard to come by. Fixing up a man's ramshackle lifestyle is something closer to home, something like surviving.

So Gale didn't say anything, but he did ask if there would be a wedding.

"What in the world," she had evaded, huffing, throwing her hands up as if the mere thought was atrocious and unfit for conversation.

Gale smiled and called over to her that four kids was enough.

Hazelle promptly cuffed his ear, but was flustered into silence.

As Gale hears his mother's goodbye and the closing of the door, he wishes he placed time into getting to know Haymitch. He was a winner of the Games. A man who lost everything, who was lost, who somehow found it befitting to live inebriated instead of not living at all.

Gale decides...maybe he shouldn't talk to him. Talking to Haymitch might only ensure things are really as bad as they seem to be. Gale doesn't want to face that, maybe, he's turned into Haymitch – drowning in his own puddle of spit, of his own making, with Hazelle there to knit back the patches on soiled clothing.

Lying on that couch, Gale looks down at his arms and legs. He can see his mother's knitting thread scars inside the crease of his elbows, around the belt of his pants. He can feel them when he creases his eyebrows together, and he knows that he's in pretty bad shape. It's not something he likes to admit - he's made a good living, he's done so many good things. He shouldn't feel like everything he's done has been for nothing, as if it was an escape route just to leave. Because it isn't that, but there's something weighing him down, keeping his pride down to a tapering flame, like it doesn't have enough oxygen to survive for long.

He slowly rises from the couch, now pushing him away with a sedated hatred. He turns to the front door and jostles the knob open, stepping outside to the settled grayness of the District. Some areas look better, more colorful, but the old colors are still there, soaked into the ground and the pavement.

He decides not to sneak around this time, because he can't, because he's already sweating by the time he's two steps from the door. It's too sticky and hot, and the only way he'll be able to make it is if he runs.

So he does. He runs until he sprints, and then his feet touch the meadow and he jerks, as if the vibrant grass twirls around his shoes, unties his shoelaces into a trap like dainty little fingers.

It's alive, this meadow. It's green and golden, and it shines its pearly fangs to him, opens its mouth into a grave.

It's beckoning, it's so inviting, all warm and moist and dark. The tongue bed is the color of a rose petal, as rich as blood, and Gale can smell it. It crawls up his nose, makes its home there, up, up, up until it lies by the sinus of his brain. He feels it digging, worming the thin layer of bone away.

His hypnotic, reckless trudging lets his feet crunch on flowers. It's all it takes to wipe the daydream clean. But it's only because the flower is dead and brown. It's because the flower is, used to be, a primrose.

The worm, the fangs and tongue, all screech and collapse into a pile of old dirt, covering the opening. The toppling twig is scratched, but the sloppy writing shows the ownership of the person, presiding and decaying, if there really is a body underneath the dirt. Either way, it seems to tell Gale to go _away because I'm your fault_.

It could be an illusion - did they find the pieces of her, all of her? Is her flesh hidden inside the meadow, making it flourish with beautiful green grass?

He kneels and hesitates, pressing his arm forward to the flower he broke, even though it had already died. His fingers shake, the sweat that began in his house rolls down his back in buckets. It's autumn, but the sun has never been as stifling as it is now.

It takes only seconds to realize. He can't do it. He can't touch the damn flower because he'll trap it. He'll detonate it. It'll turn to ash, and it will burn, all over again.

He wonders when it'll stop visiting him. When her face will stop being gray and start being the vibrant yellow it used to be.

Then he hears it. The snap of a branch or a twist of a rock. It could be anything, but it's a noise, and it makes him still. He waits and swallows while he waits, until he hears the fast pattering of feet disappear around a corner or down a road he can't reach.

It's then when he turns, looks down to see the fresh petals of a primrose fallen and delicately shifting in regards to haste. They leave him a trail that's supposed to be invisible.

He can hear her. Prim says, "Follow her, Gale. Follow Katniss."

But her face remains ashen and gray and singed with black. He knows better than to listen.

Maybe he was gone a long time. Rory, Vick, and Posy litter the house with chatter, and they all run toward him when he enters. Gripping him tightly is Posy, all ten years of her bundled up in his ragged, brown button up shirt.

"I was hoping you were coming soon! Ma doesn't tell us anything!"

Gale reaches down, wrapping one arm around her back while the other ruffles her bangs. "I didn't tell her this time."

She buries in deeper, muttering a, "Liar," into the wrinkles she's making, and it's hard to look at her without regretting his absence. He can't remember when her hair got so long, when her grip got so strong, where that scar on her forearm came from. It's only been about a year, but years are long episodes.

Gale glances up to Rory and Vick, both aged into fine boys. Rory looks like a mirror – his face, eyes, and structure. The hair's different than his, shorter, but he still seems young with his large smile and boyish lines, and that was the biggest difference.

Vick grew like a weed, surpassing Gale and Rory, and Gale's so happy he can look up to one of his brothers. The burden he was trying to hold is no longer there, and Gale knows Vick will live up to it.

They both nod to him, pry little Posy away so they can get decent hugs themselves.

It always strikes Gale how desperately he's missed this place when he settles himself in each year. It's easy to forget the smells of dinner roasting, the banter, the stories about their days, with the world's problems hanging around.

Gale learns Rory's helping out with the coal mines. After the massive cleanup and the renovations of old and new houses in the neighborhoods, the coal mines were still a death trap, holding up but just slightly. Urban development was sent in, minor repairs were made, and the elevators worked just a minute faster. Most of the district was happy with that. Rory, inspired more by Gale than by studying, spent more time at the mines than at school.

It turned out Gale wasn't the only one with fancy hands. Rory studied mechanics, how to manipulate a wire to send the voltage quicker, to stabilize the metal arms of the lift to hold with something sustainable. The Titan, the miners called it. Made by Rory, the little lion.

And now Rory had joined them, nineteen years old and living in the dark six to six every day.

"You don't have to work there, Rory," Gale says. "You've done so much already. You can travel and see the other districts –"

But Rory would tell him no. "Dad did it. You did it. I'm gonna do it, too."

Gale couldn't tell Rory not to be like him. It got stuck in his throat when Rory grinned like he did.

"You can live in the mines," Vick says. "I'm gonna see the world. There's too much not to see it."

Gale likes that idea. Vick, at least, is young enough to turn all the dusty memories of Thirteen into something of a lesser tragedy. But sometimes Gale forgets they didn't see all the things he saw.

Posy only pouts at her corner of the table. She looks to Gale with bulbous eyes, and he quirks a brow at her.

"What's up, Posy?"

She blinks, scuttles out of her chair and squishes herself into his lap. She's still a tiny thing, with skinny bones and skinny muscles. She can't be half Gale's size.

"Boys," she huffs.

"They can be a handful," Gale tries.

"Handful?" Posy asks, disbelieving. "They're awful."

He laughs and kisses the top of her head. "Is that directed to me, too?"

"You're not a boy," she says, rolling her eyes. "You're my brother."

Gale glances discreetly to Rory and Vick, while they snicker. "Thanks, Pose."

"They won't leave me alone!"

"Sorry to break it to ya, Posy," Rory speaks up. "That'll last all your life."

Posy shrieks, "All my life?"

Gale gives Rory a glare over her worried head. "Don't worry. Us Hawthorne's have a way of fending for ourselves."

Posy looks up to him with hope. "You mean they'll go away?"

He gives a shrug. "If you put your foot down."

She seems to be complacent, her fidgets dying down.

Then she says, "Can you tell me a story tonight?"

It's funny, how the question shatters that happily burning glow.

"How 'bout I tell you five stories?"

Posy only squeezes him, grins with glee, and answers, "I missed you, Gale."

It's all he can do not to put her down and run away. Because he's going to leave again, and there's too much hope with her bundled up and warm against him.

"I missed you, too."

He glances away and breaks eye contact with Posy, only to find his mother looking at him. She hasn't said much, during dinner, but it isn't that uncharacteristic. She likes to watch them interact, but it's unlike her to not give her two cents.

When Hazelle rises from her seat, Gale follows, telling Posy he's going to get a glass of water and depositing her gently onto the chair. Hazelle begins to pick up the dishes around the table, following behind Gale into the kitchen.

She places the dirty dishes into the sink, turning on the faucet while adding droplets of soap.

He waits for her to speak, but once she grabs the sponge and starts sawing against the glass cups, Gale starts talking.

"You don't have to do that anymore," he says. "The dishwasher works fine."

She turns her head over her shoulder and smiles at him. "Old habits die hard," she says. "Don't you think?"

Gale stops for a second, leans on the counter top and stares into the one cup he kept, saved from his mother's scrubbing. The bottom of it acts as a portal to a different time, to a place when he was put into a temporary, covert squad to stop a small group of rebels. It was a few years ago, when he had been in the process of remaking the Nut.

Tracking them down wasn't hard – it was the resistance. If anything, it should have been easy. They were mediocre with guns at best, being used to the pampering lives in the Capitol. They weren't accustomed to sharing the food that was divided up, shipped off to the people who earned it.

He remembers seeing them, sickly thin and crazed. The eyes were confused and lost, as if they didn't know Snow died and that the Capitol wasn't superior anymore.

Put your weapons down, the squad leader had said. Don't comply and we will shoot.

Of course, they didn't comply. They let the guns blaze, bullets going wide but the powder hitting the nose with enough force to feel the heat and desperation.

No! They shouted. Not until we can get our houses back!

Then they ran out from their cover, one by one, picked off and shot down without much thought.

One had gotten free, used the falling bodies as shields as she made her way down the runway. She was aiming at Gale, eyes ferocious and clouded, aiming the gun but not able to control the force of the kickback.

Someone called for him to shoot her. Hurry up! Shoot her!

In the second before he pulled the trigger, Gale wondered about the sacrifice. There wasn't a rage inside him to blind him from the thoughts, like it used to. He wrapped his mind around the fact that killing her, and the rest, would end nothing but a nuisance. Were they worth more than the bullets or were they worth more than the guns? Maybe it didn't matter then, at the time, because their life had already been destroyed in the war. They were only debris from the ruins.

She was too close when he shot her, with the bullet from her grazing his left shoulder. He aimed for her head, but he flinched from the impact of her shot and he hit her eye instead.

It did the job. Some of the guys joked and asked what took him so long. Others remained silent, as if they understood how hard it was to pull that trigger.

But the thing that bothered Gale was not the fact of pulling the trigger so much as it was the difficulty of it. There never had been so much hesitation in his fingers.

With hesitation, he was waiting for guilt, but the guilt didn't come. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was the best for them. Where was the room for guilt in that?

Old habits…

He didn't know if repelling guilt was an old habit or a crippling flaw.

"Yeah," he ends up saying. "They do."

"Maybe someday I'll learn how that thing works," she motions to it, "but not today."

When she says nothing else, Gale considers her for a few moments. She wasn't going to give him a speech, or a talk about staying and living there in the District again, because she already knew it wouldn't do any good.

She knows him too well, he thinks, because she watched him grow up with obliterating rage. Now that it's gone, replaced with a strange, sedated calm, he's still not sure what else it left him besides an intense desire to fix.

"You should buy a phone," he says. But it's a moot point. They've been over this too.

"That thing?" she asks. "No. It's too expensive."

"I've told you I can buy one for you, if the money bothers you."

"Gale – "

"Really, mom," he insists. "The dishwasher was more expensive. Besides, it would be a lot nicer than waiting for letters to arrive. And my visits aren't long, either."

Hazelle stops her assault on washing, giving him the same look he saw at the table.

"You don't understand, Gale," she says tightly. "If we get a phone, how many times will we see you?"

That's when he realized; guilt, grief, and forgiveness all run in the same vein. Conquer one, and you'll soon conquer them all.

The look she gives is sad and grieving, like she missed someone or something inside him that's gone and changing. Maybe he is. He knows he certainly isn't the same as he was during the games and the war. But is he really that different?

He hopes she only missed _him_.

And there is no thought Gale could grasp to counter her question, because he knows voices are different than paper. It would make it more tolerable to be gone if he could talk to them everyday, no matter what he argued.

He sighs, not knowing what else to do, and walks out of the kitchen to put Posy to bed.

Posy falls asleep on Gale's chest, and he can't find it in him to move. The bed is warm and comfortable, and it smells like pine trees and District 12, and he's content to let himself fall asleep here, too.

He hears faint footsteps on the floor, followed by a light knock on the door. Gale blinks up to see Vick standing there, itching the back of his neck.

"Hey, Gale," he whispers. "Sorry. I didn't think you'd be asleep yet."

"I'm not," he whispers back, giving him a sleepy smile. "What's wrong?"

"I just, uh," he says, fidgeting. "I've been hunting, these past few months," he pauses. "With Katniss."

Gale furrows his brow, and he can't keep the surprise out of his voice. "Really?"

Vick brightens slightly. "Yeah. She came by the house one day with Peeta and –" he stops, eyes popping and biting his lip. "I mean…"

Gale chuckles. "It's alright, Vick. It doesn't matter."

"Right…" Vick says. "Well, she came by one day for dinner and she just asked. It's been nice, you know. I'm getting pretty good at the bow," he grins. "But I think using the knife is one of my stronger suits."

A large smile creeps up on Gale, but his throat is kind of tight. "That's great, Vick. Have you taken down a deer, yet?"

"No," Vick frowns. "I think they know we hunt. They're way too skittish. And I haven't gotten quiet enough," he shrugs. "That's what Katniss says, anyway."

Gale starts to think maybe he should take him out a few times – like he should have before. The process of gaining enough food for everyone in the Districts has diluted his thoughts on hunting. But it never let his desire fade, and he's found some forest in District 2 to help him out, but teaching Vick and even Rory, aside from the few times during the games, didn't occur to him to continue.

But he thinks he knows why.

"Have you learned any snares?" Gale asks.

Vick's frown deepens. "Not really. I asked her once, but she got really mad. She said nothing good would ever come of them, and I shouldn't waste my time."

It's hard to be surprised by that. "Only if you don't strap a bomb to one," he says bitterly. Posy shifts and mumbles unintelligibly from the noise, and he starts rubbing her hair.

"Yeah, well, I know better."

Gale struggles for a few seconds before he can strain, "I can, if you really want to…teach you a few, while I'm here."

Vick visibly brightens. "Sure. Can we go tomorrow?"

His enthusiasm is infectious. "Of course. Right after school, okay?"

"Alright!" he almost shouts. Posy groans and tries to use Gale's shirt to muffle the noise. "I'll tell Katniss that we can hunt later in the week."

"If you want to hunt with Katniss, we can go the day after," Gale suggests hurriedly. "It's not a problem."

"Or we could all go," Vick shrugs. "Kill two birds with one stone, right?"

Gale sighs. "You too?"

Vick turns sheepish. "Mom makes a good argument."

"Yeah," Gale says, closing his eyes and relaxing against the pillow. "Don't listen to her."

* * *

When Gale hunts in the small forest of 2, or the tropics in 4, even in 7, whenever the job calls for him to locate there for a few days, it never reminds him of 12. The game ranges from wild hogs to pelicans to foxes and coyotes. The terrain is always refreshing, and he gets the chance to explore and find hidden areas and small, sheltering caves. He gets to fall into different vegetation and experiment with berries and plants. He's gotten better at seeing what he needs to without anyone else there, and the strength in the independence is stirring in such a foreign way, it takes him back to the memories of when he was fourteen and confused and against everyone else.

In some ways, it feels like it hasn't changed, from when he was trying to fill the family's dinner table and keeping them fed adequately to just sustain the barest minimum. He hated to see their ribs show, bones break because of malnourishment and a bad trip, but at those times, the only anger he would feel would be towards the Capitol.

Now, he's trying to keep the world fed. It's tedious behind a desk, but if the job gets done, he's happy enough. And he's not confused as much, but giving everyone the benefit of the doubt is exhausting.

But leaning his back on a tree, smelling the old scents of District 12's own forest, everything goes back to feeling okay.

He blinks up to the sun glinting through the leaves above him, takes in the cool heat of autumn. He's brought his old gaming bag, checked to see if his old bow was still where it used to be, hidden in a hollow log off to the left side of the forest. He's brought his dagger, which feels dull to the touch, but he thinks he can fix it well enough. He forced himself to bring some twine for the snares, and it feels disgustingly natural even after the length of leaving it alone. He's been trying to reacquaint himself with it, because three, four, and five years is a sufficient amount of time to start over with twitch up snares and traps. It also helps that he's doing it for Vick, too, because it gives him a reason even if he hates it.

Gale decided that he'd leave for the forest before Vick's school hours ended, to ease him into the impact of coming back. But now, underneath the smells, the songs of the birds, and the rustles of the leaves, it's as if he never left. They all rush into his skin, and he glows with pollen and dirt as he runs over the flower bushes and over low branches. He feels the stings from the twigs he kicks up, and the light touches of the draping vines. Oxygen fills his lungs to their maximum, and his heart works lazily to get it to his arms and legs. Now, it's natural. The clock stops ticking for a few beats, then a few more, until the rhythm of the world slows to the point where the swishing of his blood matches the swirling of the wind. He becomes the hunter again.

His legs take on a familiar path on their own accord, and only come to a stop when he reaches it, as he looks out to the sky with the sun still up on the early afternoon pedestal. He stands there, in the old place they would always come to meet before they started their days. He can remember vivid sunrises, painting the earth a vicious red and a blushing orange and bruising the eyes with its glory.

It's unsettling to see it now – unchanged throughout the years and waiting patiently for another to pass by, only to ignore all the transformations outside the fence. It's a whole different world here, and it's a funny thing to think back and see why the forest was such an intriguing place that would make a person forget everything else, to think a person could run into it and never be found ever again.

It is a fantasy, in this place. A refuge packed with resources.

It's dangerous.

Gale turns to find his way into the rock hollow, but stops. Quickly. He doesn't let himself breathe.

Inside the hollow is Katniss, taking up the whole space with her legs stretched, head lying straight, her eyes closed and sleeping. Her arms are wrapped around her torso protectively, and her braid keeps watch, the tail of it a long way from her body, encased in the grass fingers.

She looks tired even as she sleeps, like the sleep she has isn't sleep at all. He's certain she has nightmares. His aren't prominent like they used to be, but if she's anything like she was, it's a certain thing she still has them.

Her face doesn't seem aged – in fact, it looks exactly the same. It doesn't feel right labeling her as twenty-two when she still remains seventeen in his mind.

Her clothes are different from what they'd usually wear to hunting. Her shirt's cleaner, but he's not sure why she'd wear white. Her pants are snug and no longer ragged and disheveled. They remind him of the cotton jeans they've been shipping out from District 2.

He takes all of her in before he deems it necessary to move. He can't stay long. She'll wake up if he stares too much, for too many minutes.

But the clock has stopped a while back, and his watch is in the wrong place, in the wrong time, and this – it is so wrong.

He checks to make sure nothing is near his feet before he takes his step. In the hush of the silence, it's an earthquake. It makes him shudder and sweat and –

"_Gale_?"

He's still staring and his stealth and the time – where did it go?

Her voice is strangled and disbelieving. Her eyes are still foggy and not fully conscious. He thinks he can dart away before she assumes he's real and not a nightmare.

He steps back and tries to disappear in the shadows, but the trees aren't where he wants them to be – they're too far away to hide. He considers running, just running, but the thought gives him a deafening chill.

He didn't run in the beginning, even after the temptation of it. He's been in District 2 and everywhere else, and can that be judged running? Avoiding a certain place? A person? A feeling?

He knows he's been a coward, not facing the one thing that makes him choke on the guilt he's been closing his eyes to. He couldn't feel it at the graveyard, he couldn't even feel it when he was building around the scorch marks of his own bomb trap in the Capitol.

But he feels it now, at an unbelievable force, and it knocks his knees up, pulls at his tear ducts. The grass fingers trap him and keep him in his place, just like the meadow, and he has to stay. There is no more running.

"Hey, Catnip."


	2. whiplash

a/n; thanks so much for the feedback and alerts you guys! it means A TON, especially since i've never tried to do anything like this story before. i'm not used to writing multi-chaptered stories, so i hope y'all can bear with me. :) and by the way, this chapter was originally about 9K words long, and i thought that was obnoxious, so i cut it in half. i'll have the other half up soon!

chapter two - whiplash

* * *

She recoils at his voice, the fog from her eyes sharpening and her face growing tight.

"What are you doing here?" she whispers harshly, pulling in her legs and sitting up.

Gale straightens, steeling up from the previous vulnerability.

"Waiting for Vick," he says. "I didn't know...you'd be here."

She turns her head away, the shock still evident. Her hands start twisting, and Gale immediately remembers when she went to Finnick for comfort, learned to tie knots over and over to help her out of the emotional ruts. He remembers being ridiculously overprotective and jealous, but he can't blame himself for being selfish about it. He _can_ blame himself for being too distracted by the war to concentrate on her, solely. He's wondered if the cause for the war wasn't so great, if his mindset didn't contain Katniss inside that cause he was so passionate over, if he wouldn't be standing across the way right now, feeling like a pile of shit, of _nothing_. All these years, and he feels like he hasn't done a goddamn thing.

Snow's dead. Coin's dead. The government is democratic. The world is tilted away from chaos for the first time in years. But it's all undone here, and he hasn't let himself come back and mend it.

He fishes around in his pocket, finding the twine twirl in between his fingers. It's thinner than rope, but thicker than the grass she's taken on herself to destroy. It looks like a routine, as she clips it inside her fist, twisting it into a circle before jerking it into ragged halves.

"Here," he says, leaning over to reach her.

She looks toward him, sees the string, then looks away.

"I think I'll pass," she says coldly.

Gale's not surprised at that either. He places the string back into his front pocket and glances out to the sun.

It's hard to speak for a while. He's thought about a moment like this more than he'd like to admit, but they were always half-way things, muddled, and unrealistic. He wasn't sure how to play them out in daydreams, because they'd turn out to be anything _but_ a daydream.

"So you're just going to stand there?" she says, looking at the ground.

"No," Gale sighs, shaking a hand through his hair. "I'm..."

_Going to apologize._ But Gale knows she will never accept words, especially from him. And words are a weak way to show anything. He's never been much of a word type of guy, anyway.

"I'm waiting for Vick, like I said," he says.

"He doesn't get out for another hour," she says. "Guess you wouldn't know."

Gale clenches his jaw, feeling a quick retort bite at the back of his mouth, but he keeps it down.

"I just wanted to remember what it felt like in this place," he admits, and it's honest.

She remains quiet, but she doesn't make to leave. Gale takes a hesitant seat, several feet away against a tree, and stares into the forest.

"It didn't change," he whispers. "After everything, it remains the same."

He doesn't expect her to say anything, and she keeps silent for a long time. Gale rests his head against the bark, and closes his eyes to the music of the animals hidden under the brush.

He lets out a deep exhale, and if he lets his mind wander away from Katniss and the anxiety behind his neck, he'd be close to falling asleep. But instead, his thoughts stray to the meadow, and Prim, and he wants to know if her face would stay ashen and gray until he placed it upon himself to find Katniss. He should have followed the trail sooner, perhaps. Perhaps that would have been the only way to turn her face into that vibrant yellow he was searching for. But he's not sure if he'd have been able to overcome the denial until now.

What changed, what made this time the focal point, he doesn't think he'll truly understand.

So Gale focuses on the angle of the sun and the warmth from the sky. He thinks if he listens close enough, he can hear the water move inside the tree.

When he lets his eyes open, he catches her staring at him. She shifts her eyes away from his face and back towards the clouds, but it in no way indicates that she's embarrassed or ashamed to be caught. Her face is concealed in a blank, distant mask, and there is nothing to discern from her profile.

"You've changed."

He almost smiles, but it turns partly into a sneer. Nobody has told him that yet, outright, but it's such an empty statement it'd be easy to believe it isn't true.

"I did cut my hair," he says, trying for light instead of bitter.

She doesn't reply, and he clears his throat and tries, "Well, your clothes have changed, but you look...the same."

He feels the mound of guilt pile when he doubts his ability to see if she really hasn't changed. He can't seem to read her anymore, when he used to know so well.

"Longer hair," he adds. "But I don't think..."

"Stop," she says. "Just shut up. Stop trying." She stands up, the grass bits billowing out like confetti. "I saw you in the meadow. I know what you're trying to do," she continues. "But it won't work. So stop."

She walks around the rock, avoiding his gaze, and heads toward the small break between branches.

"And don't call me Catnip," she says under her breath, strides showing more emotion, much more than her profile had.

Gale watches her go until she's out of sight completely and he wishes he said one last thing. Maybe he should have said he was sorry. It was a chance, a lousy one at best. Perhaps nothing would have made it any different. And she won't want to see him again. She'd be happier that way.

But he knew it wouldn't be right, when he saw her there asleep. He was expecting the anger, the hate and apathy. He would be shocked if it was anything else.

So he sits, and he waits until the school bells ring, and tries to rub away the strong disappointment curled up tight inside his stomach.

* * *

Vick was right when he said he was good with a knife.

Gale hasn't seen a man throw a knife so far and hit a target dead on like Vick - three squirrels and two rabbits later. It's a sight to see, and Vick is unabashedly triumphant, flaunting his abilities for Gale with the utmost diligence.

"You're somethin' else," Gale compliments, almost sarcastically, gathering the dead squirrel from the ground and away from any potential predators. He hooks it onto his belt for keeps, and possible dinner, along with the others. "I haven't even gotten the chance to shoot."

"Sorry I'm so good," Vick grins. "Save your arrows for when you really need them."

Gale shoves Vick into a nearby bush and Vick laughs loudly.

"Jealousy is unattractive Gale!" Vick shouts, before Gale shakes his head and helps him out of the tangle he pushed Vick into.

"Your ego is making me sick," Gale says. "How can anyone stand it?"

"I'm a gentleman around Katniss, if that's what you're saying," he states matter-of-fact. "And all the other ladies. They think knife throwing is pretty hot."

Gale rolls his eyes, shoving Vick right back into the bush. "Get over yourself," he laughs. "I didn't think anybody could best me with girl grabbing."

"I'm pretty sure I've challenged your record," Vick says, cheeky. "But really, can you blame me?"

"Don't think I can answer that," Gale answers, watching Vick struggle with the bush in amusement.

Once Vick loosens from the hug of the sharp stems and stumbles to a tree, he asks, "So when are we gonna start the snares?"

Gale swallows and replies, "We can make some right now." He reaches for the twine in his pocket. After pulling it out, he examines it before setting down near the tree Vick was waiting by.

"Alright, so twitch up snares are pretty basic..." Gale teaches how to make the small knot for the bottom of the trap, then how to wrap it around a tree branch,

"Make sure the branch is high enough to hang prey above the ground, and out of reach from anything else," he says. "You might not be able to check them as soon as you'd like."

He explains other traps he's learned, some that were self taught and trial and error, some inside lakes and streams, but whenever he starts to feel the crawl of disgust, Vick's enthusiastic take on the knots kill all the inner turmoil.

It feels like, for the first time in a while, he's doing something inexplicably right.

When the sun starts setting and the breezes become chillier and bite, they head out to the entrance. Both hold enough meat together to last almost a week for the family, but instead of heading straight to their house, they make their way to Greasy Sae's. The atmosphere is warm and a bit stuffy, filled with families and couples and some just enjoying a meal by themselves.

The table placement reminds him of diners back at the Capitol, but the layout is its own, with many more tables and clutter. Somehow, the disorganization is fitting, causing the people to remain laid-back without caring.

Sae comes around from the back, holding plates filled with steak and ribs with those side delicacies of corn and mashed potatoes.

"Well, well, if it isn't the cousin come back," Sae says, placing the meals down after she scuttles to the right table.

"They still call me that?" Gale asks, exasperated, as he follows Sae back to the counter in the front of the restaurant. Vick is close behind, and makes his chuckles known.

"They still think that's what you've always _been_," Sae replies. "But you're close to a stranger now. Most have probably forgotten about you."

"Short memories, I guess. It's better that way," Gale shrugs. "Anyway, are you low on rabbits or squirrels? We brought some."

This makes Sae's eyes brighten, her glance moving to his belt.

"Presents? Or you still want a trade?" she asks, giving him a mock serious look. "I'm in need of some rabbit – the shipment doesn't get in 'til next week."

"I did see some sirloin the other day."

Sae puts her hands on her hips. "Sirloin for rabbit?"

"I'm betting that people here still don't know sirloin comes from cows."

Sae's lips pucker, but he can tell she's hiding a smile. She gives a small huff.

"What makes you think so?"

Gale makes a show of glancing up at her menu on the chalkboard on the upper wall. "You expect me to believe you use sirloin in your stews?"

This cracks her grin. "Never could wrangle you into a cheap bargain," she says, already grabbing a piece of the sirloin from her fridge around the corner. She wraps it up in white paper and sticks the cover with a label decorated with her name.

"When'd you get so fancy?" Gale teases, handing her four rabbits from his belt.

"A while back, when you were off becoming famous," she says, ignoring his offer. Gale frowns at her.

"A trade's a trade," he persists, but she only waves him away.

"You've done enough, kid," she answers. "Now, go on, before your mom starts wondering where the food is."

Gale hesitates one last time before reattaching the rabbits to his belt. "Thanks, Sae."

"Yeah," Vick speaks up. "We appreciate it."

Sae rolls her eyes. "I'm rich now. I can get whatever I want."

Gale nods, handing the steak to Vick.

"See ya, Sae," Vick says, turning to leave.

She waves to Vick, then reaches over to clap Gale's shoulder. "Come visit me whenever you want, Gale."

"Okay," Gale replies, but he feels over encumbered with all the dead animals around his waist. He decides to send her an extra order of sirloin once he's gone.

* * *

There is nothing like a full stomach. Gale's still waiting for there to be the nag against his ribs, but it's only here in his house where he doesn't feel it.

He ends up back with Posy, finishing up the second story before he hears her deep breathing. He shifts, little by little, until he's able to slide Posy off without disturbing her. Tucking her in, he kisses her forehead and quietly leaves the room.

He runs into Vick on the way to Hazelle's room, and Vick stops him.

"Hey, Gale," he starts. "I just wanted to say thanks. For today. I learned a lot, you know?"

Gale hits his shoulder. "Anytime."

He begins walking past Vick, but Vick continues. "I was wondering, though, if maybe we could go again. Before you leave."

Gale turns to him and gives a crooked smile. "We can go every day if you want."

Vick beams. "You sure?"

"Of course."

Gale makes a round through the rooms, until he hears Hazelle talking with Rory in the kitchen. He stops before walking in, the heat and the quiet underlying their voices making him stop. He leans against the wall and lets himself listen in.

"Peeta invited us to dinner," Rory whispers. "And it's a good idea. I didn't think you'd be so skeptical about it."

He hears Hazelle sigh. "Gale won't go. He'll say no. You know that."

"But we should ask. Maybe he's finally gotten over it. Besides," Rory scoffs, "it wouldn't be polite to turn him down."

Hazelle still sounds skeptical, and Gale can imagine her tapping her fingers on the counter top. "Fine, you little lion," she concedes. "I'll ask him in the morning. Posy doesn't like sharing him during stories."

Gale takes his cue and sneaks away, going down the adjacent hallway to his bedroom. It's strange, no longer sharing a room with Vick and Rory, but the privacy is a luxury he didn't know he was missing in the old house.

He falls on top of his bed and heaves out a large breath of air. He should have seen this coming. He told himself no more running, after all, and there was no question about how he'd be able to answer the invitation.

Tomorrow, he'd have to have dinner with Peeta and Katniss whether he liked it or not.

His stomach coils, the euphoria from the food fading into a spinning bundle of nerves.

This could be a rare chance for Katniss to shed some of the marble on her face. Maybe he'd be able to see the friend he left before everything got blasted into a crazy mess. He knows she won't forgive him in the span of the few days he has left, but it's the perfect opportunity. He'll leave her with a token instead of a ghost.

He falls asleep with the wistful, insidious hope that he can make it through her, somehow. His dream is sharp and distorted with Prim is smiling at him distantly. He can't reach her this time, but she whispers, promising, she'll be closer next time.

* * *

After Vick and Posy go to school and Rory heads out to the mines, Gale tells his mom yes before she asks, and her eyes become wide and startled.

"How did you…" she shakes her head, deciding to forgo the question. "Alright, but you're sure? It's just going to be us and Peeta and Katniss."

"It'll be fine," he says.

She places her hands on her hips, securing her stance. "When you got here, you told me you weren't going anywhere near her, and now you're just…fine about it?" she sighs, baffled.

He falters, thinking quickly, before he decides honesty is one of his strong suits.

"I saw her yesterday," he shrugs. "Can't be so bad after that."

Hazelle grasps her coffee cup, staring hard into his eyes. "What happened?"

Gale grabs a seat from the table, making himself comfortable. He tells her it was an accident, and she acted the way he expected her to.

"I just figure, since the ice finally broke, it'll get better."

He doesn't tell her he went to the meadow, or that he's going through the motions of guilt. But he's never had it in him to make her concerned, through all those rough times before the games to the times after. He likes protecting her, and them, and if it's a mistake, she hasn't voiced it.

But he's certain, certain that her eyes alone know the truth. They dissect and dig and know. His mom hasn't made it this far because she doesn't know how to take care of the people around her, as subtle as it can be.

"Okay," she says softly, and she reaches over to put her hand on his.

Gale smiles at her. "Don't worry, mom."

She pats his hand a last time, lets go, and she doesn't.

* * *

Gale thinks he should do something productive while he's here, something besides fidgeting over Katniss. He walks down the streets and glances at the shops around town. He's sure he could find something to do to help them, get consumed in busy work until he can see the kids.

He glances at the mines in the distance, their rumbles underneath the ground killing their temptation. He doesn't miss them, the darkness and the bombs every day. It makes him sick. He's been underground long enough for his liking, especially after the Nut, and he doubts he'll ever be able to do things like that again.

He passes near Haymitch's house – his mom isn't there, since she's still working with laundry and even taking up other jobs of house cleaning, but he wonders if he should go up and knock, shake his hand once more. He's behind things here in 12 and it'll bother him until he does, but he gets distracted by the house next to Haymitch's. It's a carbon copy, and the years haven't changed it in the least. He decides he'll see Haymitch later.

In the end, he ends up in the forest again. He doesn't bring anything, except his knife – that's a permanent part of his attire.

His walk is sedated this time, leisurely, and he keeps himself from running. All the animals are asleep today - he can feel it in the permeating quiet around him, and he wants it to remain as calm as he feels.

When he reaches the rock hollow, he sees the braid before anything else. He pauses, the zap of shock absent, but the same tension in his muscles and the pointed heartbeats are fresh and repeating like the day before.

He steps into the same spot, near the tree several feet away from her. She isn't sleeping this time, her legs crossed and her back straight against the sediment, but her eyes match the fogginess and lack of clarity of the morning – as if she's slowly coming out of a dream.

"Hey—"

Before he can finish the greeting, she snaps quick, bow quivering from the arrow she shoots into his shoulder.

Gale staggers back, hearing the arrow hitting the tree behind him.

"The hell," he breathes, looking down to the tail of the arrow, which is almost halfway through him. The tip vibrates from snagging the tree. He hears Katniss inhale as she puts her bow down.

"Oh."

It really isn't that bad. He's gone through a lot worse, and bows are certainly different from bullets. He takes his hand and fists it around the wood of the arrow closest to his skin. He shuts his eyes and yanks it quickly, hearing the break from the tree, the rough slide of the sharp tip and the pain ripping through the upper half of his shoulder.

He grunts from the burning, then glances over to her. Katniss's eyes are wide while she grips her lip between her fingers.

He gives a crooked grin, managing to say, "I guess I'm still too quiet."

"Um…" she struggles. "I didn't mean…"

He holds up his good arm to pacify her, thankful his left got hit instead of his right. "Don't worry," he says. "I deserve what I get when it comes to you."

The shock in her eyes vanishes. She flares with anger, but she holds in the biting remark he was waiting for.

He looks away from her and starts busying himself with unbuttoning his shirt, thankful a second time for not having to pull it over his head. He'd rather move his left arm as little as possible. Once the shirt's gone, he examines the wound. The blood stream is steady but thin, and it's high enough to bandage conveniently.

He takes the knife out of his belt, and cuts off the sleeve of his soiled shirt. Flattening the cloth, he flaps it onto the top of his shoulder and reaches under his left arm to grab the other end. He tries out his left arm and grasps the top cloth. It's awkward, and he keeps flinching, but he's able to create a loose knot. It shields the wound fine, and he'll get his mom to fix it with a real bandage later.

He glances up, and she's several feet closer, sitting up on her knees. She's still a few paces away, but at this distance he can make out the old scars on her face. It alerts him, and her eyes push him back into the tree bark until it bites at his skin.

Her eyes dart down, and he follows her lead, finding the bloody arrow beside his thigh. He almost laughs because _of course_ she'd want her arrow back. That's why she was so close, suddenly.

He reaches over and grabs it, using the battered shirt to clean away the blood. Then he grips the tip, handing it over to her tail end first.

"Thanks for not hitting me in the eye," he says, while she slips the arrow away from him.

"I _didn't_ mean to," she stresses. "Why are you back here, anyway?"

"Same as yesterday."

She stares at him. "It's not even ten yet."

Gale blinks, then he rubs his right hand across his face. "I meant…later. I just wanted to come back. It's a second home in here."

She shifts around, giving him the side profile again. She keeps quiet, and he bites his cheek. The arrow made her lose the blankness completely, for a few seconds, but now it's starting to grow back.

"Don't you think?"

She gives a half-shrug. "I guess it turned out that way."

The silence between them grows for a time. Gale shifts and searches for anything to say.

"We're having dinner," Gale says.

"Peeta's been wanting to for a while."

"I…think it's a good idea."

This makes her bristle, like he hit a nerve. She turns her face to him, red-blooded animosity rushing to her face. "Why? How could you possibly think it's a good idea?"

He blinks a few times, reeling from her tone. "Why wouldn't it be? It's been –"

"Five years," she finishes. "That's my point. You suddenly decide you want to waltz in and make contact with us like nothing happened?"

"How else can I go about this, Katniss?" He reaches up to clench his hair in his hands, and he immediately misses the length of it.

"I don't know, Gale," she spats. "Maybe if you didn't wait so long."

Her words are hammers. He starts to feel leaden, his limbs stuck in the dirt.

"I wish every day that I came back sooner," he says. "But what's the point of that? It's gone, and I'm trying to earn it back. If you'd let me."

"Ever thought it was too late?" she asks. "Second chances aren't real for everyone."

It's then he notices the poignant pain in his shoulder. But it's not from the fresh wound – it's from the one before, the one where the bullet nicked him from the Capitol girl. It's just next to the hole from the arrow, but all the burning has moved to the lumpy, mangled scar. It's opening anew, the blood seeping from the curve of his shoulder instead of the upper part of the muscle.

It's an awful time to direct a question toward himself, but he does. He has to.

Is he worth more than the bullet, or more than the gun?

He feels like the girl with the crazed eyes, the trembling fingers, the mussed hair. She was pretty once, he knows, with all the cosmetics and pampering from days passed. He remembers her right down to the way the dirt was caked underneath her fingernails and the way the cuts framed her face.

He looks down to his fingers, feels his face for the light grazes from the forest.

Maybe, he thinks, he never survived the war. He thinks, maybe _he's_ debris from the ruins.

"I kill people," he answers. He's not sure if she's still there. He's been staring at the ground for a very long time. "I kill people, and I never felt bad about it. I told myself it was war, and war never changes. You start questioning the rights and wrongs and you'll die before you can shoot." He pauses. "So I questioned only the Capitol, and I remembered all their wrongs, what fueled me against them. A lot of it revolved around you, you know."

He makes a mean smile, shakes his head. "I couldn't protect you, or your family, like I promised. And I'm sorry you hate me… You were my greatest downfall, Katniss. But I'm _glad_ it was you."

He looks up, and it's the last knock from the hammer. He's underneath the dirt up to his nose.

She's gone.

It takes effort he doesn't have to dig himself out.

* * *

a/n; since i can't reply to anonymous reviews:

Troll-Under-the-Bridge: you are so cool. like, really. i agree with you about Suzanne Collins, because_ Gale_.. :| obviously, this story stems from my feelings about him, haha. and your review totally made me want to post all of the story i've written so far. i wish there were more Kat/Gale shippers in the world - my school is infested with Peeta worshipers, and even though i like him, he's not my favorite, and if i say that out loud, i swear i'll get mauled. but thank you for your awesome review! i hope you liked this chapter! :)

Hiya: thanks! i'll go back and change that part to italics soon. :)


	3. careless

a/n; i love you all so much! thanks for such awesome reviews.

chapter three - careless

* * *

Earlier, back in 2, the culture shift was steep. Life was different, people looked different, and the brunettes were few and far between. It was blonde after blonde after red after blonde. Blue eyes, then green eyes, then blue eyes, then brown. There was not a person with black hair in sight.

They were freer in their ways than back in 12. Less worried, more carefree, but retaining the grudge and hostility toward the rebuilding of the government. Resistance would break out, some shots would sound, and a speech or two later, they'd be pushed back down into a simmer.

It was a cycle – take damage, wash it down, rinse it, repeat.

It took awhile to get used to it. He still had a small flame inside him, against the people living there. The rebuttals from them were aggravating and an annoyance. He'd sometimes be sent in a squad to settle them down – and that was fine with him.

But staying angry was exhausting. Without friends and family there and backing him, he lost something. It wasn't the same. They were back in 12, safe, nobody threatening them. The pointlessness of each riot kept hitting him like cold water up the nose, and it'd be uncomfortable and burn harshly, but it didn't add to the fire pit inside him. It only helped make him cold and bitter.

The blondes would get to him, too. All he'd ever see were Prim's ringlets or Prim's blue eyes or Prim's charred little body, flying into the air and breaking into six different pieces. Head, arms, legs, all leaden and dead.

She did so much for him throughout the games. He was stuck in the perpetual motions of wondering and regretting, until he kept coming to the same point over and over. He didn't know they were using the bomb for the last, practical effort. It was the nail in the coffin, but could it really be his fault?

He pegged it on Prim. If Prim wasn't down there helping the wounded, he wouldn't feel any of this cycle sickness. Bomb, Prim, Regret, Bomb, Prim, Regret. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

If only Prim wasn't down there. If, if, if, repeat, repeat, repeat.

When he started to believe it was Prim's fault, he wondered if it was selfish. Ruthless. She was tending while he was killing. But she shouldn't have been there, in the war zone. It was dangerous and stupid and reckless.

She was healing the people he despised. It was all backwards and wrong. Thirteen years old and devoting herself to people who could never deserve her deft, caring hands. It wasn't worth it.

So there was no satisfaction watching them burn into the rubble, ashes floating and falling into the buildings. Because she was there, and she ruined it.

When he started to blame her, he stopped walking around, stopped letting all the blonde, blue-eyed devils loom around, shameless as they taunted him. He started making eye contact, garnered attention, blinded himself in their golden locks, and waited until he saw in their eyes what he saw in Prim's every day he'd deliver food to her house. When she'd match his gifts of survival with her own – cheese, smiles, and herself.

He waited and waited and waited. But nobody held Prim's glimmer.

No one ever did.

"Gale?"

But it didn't stop him from continuing to look.

"Gale!"

He jolts, finding Vick kneeling beside him and worry stricken across his features. Vick has a hand on Gale's shoulder, peeling the cloth away from the wound. He gives it a critical stare, face contorting.

"Vick – "

"What happened?" Vick asks, placing the cloth back over it.

"Nothing, I just got a little careless," Gale answers. "It's not a big deal – "

Vick vigorously shakes his head. "No, it's clotted already, but it looks nasty. We should get home and get it cleaned up." He pauses, frowning and giving Gale a perplexed look. "And since when do you get careless? You haven't gotten hurt in the forest since…since…"

Gale sighs, letting his head hit the bark behind him with a resounding thunk. "I know. I just wasn't prepared to hunt."

Vick's look becomes even more confused. "When did you get here?"

"In the – " Gale stops. "Earlier. I wanted to hang out over here for a while, then go get my gear before school ended. But it didn't really turn out that way."

"Right. So you only came with your knife? What's wrong with you?" Vick says with reprimand. "When have you ever traveled in here without your equipment?"

"Vick, it's not a big deal. I'm fine – "

"No, you're not!" he shouts. "You're only lucky wolves didn't come out and finish the job."

Vick starts gripping Gale's right arm, propping himself underneath him and helping Gale rise.

"If it came to that, I could have taken care of myself," Gale says, trying to procure a gentle tone. "I'm not as good with a knife like you are, but I still would have got the job done."

Gale releases his arm from behind Vick's neck once they're up and walking, rolling his right shoulder to try and get the awkward kinks out. He lets his left dangle at his side, carrying his wrinkled shirt.

"You don't know that," Vick argues, unwilling to let it go. "You can't possibly tell me that and think I'll believe you."

Gale looks over to him out of the corner of his eye. Vick was never the serious type. He'd been a goof, being the cute middle kid of the family and milking the smiles he'd get for all their worth. It's hard to see him so serious and agitated, about something so seemingly futile.

"Nothing happened," Gale says, still soft. "There's no reason to be mad at what could have."

Vick stares at Gale as they walk, brows still slanted down. "Maybe that's easy for you to say."

"What do you mean, easy for me?"

"Because," Vick sighs. "You don't understand. You're gone a lot, but you know we're here. You know we're safe. But we never really know where you are or what you're doing. What if something happened? What if you were really gone?"

This hits Gale harder than he expected. Knowing his family was fine and well off secured his thoughts that they didn't have to worry about anything. Thinking about it, maybe he was naïve. He didn't realize they would worry over him.

"I'm sorry," Gale breathes out. "I didn't know…I do a lot of things. But I'm not in the line of fire anymore. You guys aren't supposed to worry."

Vick shrugs. "Forget it. You're here, right? Maybe I should listen to you. I'll enjoy it while you're here."

The rest of the way out of the forest is faced with silence, and Gale builds up thoughts of how he can take away their worry. But the truth of the matter is, he's not quite sure how. It scares him to think they've been worrying all this time.

As they reach the opening in the fence, Gale tries out his left arm, shrugging and swinging back and forth.

"You know," he starts. "After I get this wrapped up from mom, we can go out and hunt for a bit. It's not that bad."

Vick glances over to him, shifting his hands into his pockets. "Nah. Dinner will be soon, anyway. And you need to look good. Did you take a shower yesterday?"

Gale quirks his face at him, registering the fact that Vick's easy humor is coming back. He smiles. "Don't I always look good?"

"Not if you smell like wet dog."

"I think you're smelling yourself."

"Nice try, Gale."

"Thanks."

"But you know," Vick trails. "Chicks dig wounded men."

Gale rolls his eyes, almost laughing from the ironic fact of where he got the bloody stab. "Whatever you say, Vick."

He beams easily.

Walking down the street to their house, Gale realizes he must be a sight from all the discreet glances he gets from the people passing by. It's nice they're polite with their staring, or Gale would have gotten a tick in his neck and a scowl on his face.

"Told ya chicks dig wounds," Vick directs to Gale once they wind up on the other side of a crowd of giggles and teenagers.

"I kind of wish you got the wound instead of me," Gale grumbles. "I'm too old for this."

"Well, maybe mom will hold back a blush."

With much expectancy, Hazelle does blush - with shock and an angry bewilderment - when they reach the house. "What in the world happened, you two?"

"Don't look at me," Vick says, raising his palms. "He did it to himself."

"It's not a big deal," Gale tries pacifying, grabbing a chair from the dining table in the middle of the room. "Just a wild dog, that's all."

Hazelle raises her brow. "In all the time you've been in that forest, never once have you brought yourself back bloody."

Gale holds back a groan. His family is too brutal with skepticism. "I have _too_. But I wasn't paying attention today."

"When have you stopped paying attention?" Hazelle counters, already rummaging through a cabinet in the kitchen in search of a wrap.

"Mom…" Gale sighs loudly. "I guess when I stopped worrying so much over your well being.

"Well," she says, hustling back into the room with the pristine white cloth inside a bowl in one hand, and a bottle of alcohol in the other. "You need to remember to worry about yourself, now."

She peels off the rest of the old shirt sleeve off his shoulder, having to pry away at the section where it glued together with the skin and dried blood. The pull nicks a small hole into the scab, releasing a glistening spot of red.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Gale's almost certain that the cleaning process of the puncture is much more painful than the actual situation of getting shot.

"This doesn't look like a dog bite…" Hazelle comments as she rinses with alcohol.

"He just got a tooth in, jerked around a little before I took him off," Gale says, making sure he doesn't miss a beat.

"A strange spot I guess. A few more inches, and he'd have hit bone."

"He almost missed me," Gale responds. "Could have been a lot worse."

He deliberately avoids saying that his bone did get hit, but he figures it'll be harder to avoid the regular movements he should make. Fortunately, Hazelle finds out before he has to.

"His lower jaw got your shoulder blade," Hazelle mumbles, mostly to herself as she swabs at it. She experiments by pushing at his bone, and it wiggles. Gale takes a sharp breath.

"Mm, thought so," she says. "Your shoulder blade's fractured. But it shouldn't be too bad. How much can you move around?"

Gale appeases her by going through basic movements – from raising his arm in front of him, to the side, to the back. He can't hold back his winces, and Hazelle makes her prescription in a matter of minutes.

"We'll put your arm in a sling after your shower, alright?"

Gale feels ridiculous and weak once the arm is set and stiff in the homemade sling. He wishes he could let it hang by his side and fake the hurt away. At least then he wouldn't have to flaunt his wound.

Though, he can't say he doesn't try to persuade her. His speech just isn't very convincing.

By the time it's nearing dinner, everyone has dressed accordingly. Hazelle makes sure all the boys wear their nice shirts and classy pants. They don't have many, even now after the resources have grown abundant and overdone. The retail stores have taken to decorating the square, bursting with sale signs and advertisements boasting the trendiest of styles in bold, blocky yellow letters. It's not as bad here as it is in the Capitol, less colorful and less nauseating, with more of a homemade style than an artificial one.

Seeing Vick and Rory, they've probably been shopping there a few times. They wear outfits foreign to the times he lived with them.

Posy, though, is an excited little ball. From all the dresses and skirts she throws around her room, it's easy to see she was the only one, aside from Hazelle, who hadn't felt forced in shopping.

Gale brushes off the dust from his old attires, usually worn only for the Reapings. The clothes are tighter, strangling his chest and his thighs. He hasn't noticed his weight gain, though it isn't surprising. From the way he's been eating the past few days, along with some of the past years, the only surprise he feels is that he hasn't grown a fat stomach, regardless of the workouts he maintains. They're nice refuges after all the negotiations and paperwork.

It's a shock looking at his reflection. The mirror tells him he's going to see Effie Trinket in a blazing wig in a few minutes. It gets him feeling nervous heat behind his neck, though it's a phantom fear. Those never leave you, not really.

Hazelle peaks into his bedroom, a loose smile curling up the edge of her lips. Gale's gotta admit, his mom looks beautiful in the flow of her dark green dress. She must have gone to the shops too, and he deduces she's the one who dragged the family into the rows and rows of cotton and polyester.

"You look good, mom," he says.

She walks fully into the room, straightening the crumples in the fibers of his sling. "Wanting me to tell you you look good, too?"

"Kind of," Gale grins.

"Well, you look dashing. A lot like your father."

Gale glances to the mirror again, blinking past the phantoms and toward his features. It must be striking, to his mom and any of the other older miners still hanging around. Remake his nose and give him broader shoulders, and he'd_ be_ his father.

"I do look like him," he says.

"It's the hair," Hazelle says back, reaching to flick the hair by his eyebrows.

"I miss him." It slips out. He didn't realize he felt that way, still, so strongly.

"We all do. But he left us tough." She smoothes out the bunching across his arms. She has a lot of habits like that, using her hands to do any small, tidbit of a task. "Ready to go?"

They make the fast walk to Katniss and Peeta's house – the new house created a distance a mere three blocks away. Gale wonders absently how he's avoided them all this time.

Vick is in charge of carrying the blueberry cobbler Hazelle made earlier in the day. She gave it enough time to turn cozily warm instead of uncomfortably hot, to let the starches settle and the juices thicken, she had explained, before Rory could take a bite when he arrived exhausted and sooty from the mines.

"Finally," Rory exhales once they land on the welcoming mat of the house. His stomach grumbles in perfect timing. Posy giggles at him, punching a finger nearest where she heard the sound.

Hazelle knocks on the door, and in a few seconds, it's Katniss standing in the doorway, a warm glow echoing behind her. The smells of veal and potatoes and biscuits float out in tantalizing strands from over her head.

Rory mumbles under his breath about the smell, Vick grins vibrantly, Posy, for whatever reason, wraps her arms around Gale's leg in a snug hug.

Gale's not sure what to do. He wraps his right arm loosely around Posy's shoulder and moves the fingers on his left. He bites his inner lip and wishes Rory would share some of his immediate hunger. He's far from wanting food now, seeing her. The sight of her makes his shoulder ache in response.

"I'm glad you guys made it," she says, the smile not quite there. She glances at him, then flicks back to Hazelle. She steps back and allows for them to shuffle in.

"Posy," Gale whispers down to her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says.

"What are you doing, then?"

"Giving you support," she answers, peeking up at him through her bangs.

It pulls a small tug at Gale's face, and he directs the smile to her. "I'm okay, shorty."

Her nose wrinkles at the nickname, and she loosens her hold. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

She unlatches, hopping through the entrance. The warmth she left is reassuring.

He walks in last, with Katniss still rigid and holding the knob. He gives enough space to not be looming, but he doesn't take the time out to ignore her as much as she's trying to ignore him. She closes the door and turns right around to face the family as a whole, while he remains at the outer edge.

"We're happy to be here," Hazelle replies in response, and her voice is genuine. "I made some blueberry cobbler, for dessert."

"That's…great," Katniss says, eyes blinking in a fit of surprise. "I'll take it to the kitchen. You guys go ahead and take a seat. The dinner is almost done." She takes the dish from Hazelle, sidestepping them to the opening leading to all the vicious, delicious smells.

The family starts retreating to the dining table, but Gale stays where he's standing. The entry is open and large, leading directly into the sitting room with the chimney burning, subdued embers flickering from the pit. The heat from the wood is an undertone to the mood all around, a befitting accessory – like the glint from an earring. It's a mild, one second distraction.

The chairs are plush, but worn, as if there are many nights, maybe days, spent there, sitting and watching the fire or the television still connected to the wall.

Gale isn't part of communications, electronic or by air or ground, but the industry has moved on from government regulated broadcasts, enough to the point where news bulletins interweave information across Districts on one channel. On the few others, there has been cast shows and miniseries over mundane subjects. One's labeled a western, another a drama, another a soap. From the reconnaissance Gale's done, he's more in touch with the history of the world than he's ever been. Eighty years ago, it revolved around media, around censored views of snapshots through the screen. It used to be much like it was during those marred seventy-five years, though faker. The blood splatters on the television, at least during the Hunger Games, weren't paint. Now, it's back to being a cheap imitation of fiction. It'll be a while until the rest of the Capitol people can wean off that tragedy. But most of the time, Gale's not sure how anyone can volunteer to watch those shows.

Above the television is a painting; it's Peeta's, most likely, with strokes of orange and gray, the sunset and Katniss. It's a beautiful picture, confined inside the borders of the parchment, and if it could, it'd span across the rest of the pale yellow walls. There are many more like that one – some are scenery, like the forest and horizons, some are memories, like a smile or a flower, but most contain Katniss. Regardless, each is hopeful and forward. They're for the future, because none of them reminisce the past.

It's safe in here. Gale loves it...and he hates it. Claustrophobia crawls on his shoulders and lingers there. It's only a hint, and it won't ever be unbearable. Stay inside too long, and he'll lose the taste of it.

But what remains most intensely is the glow. The walls may be a pale yellow, but the lighting creates a hazy calm. He doesn't remember it from long ago, but it's a valuable change.

"Gale!"

Gale glances away from his spot, turning to the sound. Posy is settled in her chair at the table, beckoning him over.

"Sit by me!"

There isn't much choice left for him. The table seats eight, three around each length and one on each end. Hazelle and Rory took the ends, Vick sat on the left on one side, Posy the right of the other. It's obvious the other side was saved for Katniss and Peeta.

He walks across the opening, taking his seat. Peeta enters through the door from the kitchen a moment later, a wide smile on his face. He's carrying a roasting pan full of still sizzling veal, cut into slices ready to pull off.

"I'm so glad everyone could make it," he says, glancing to all the members of the family. There's a small chorus from his family, reciprocating the sentiment. His glance remains on Gale the longest. "It's great to see you, Gale."

Nothing much seems to differ in Peeta's face. It's still open and sincere, cheeks stretched in joy. He's not seventeen any longer, either. His skin is attached in a way that settles better, now. It is no longer scowling or mangled from dirt and scratches and insanity.

Gale stands up after Peeta places the pan in the center of the table. He holds out his hand, and Peeta, a little surprised, takes it.

"It's great to see you, too," Gale says. "I can only say that I regret not coming sooner."

But Peeta doesn't have an angered look, any smudge of anger directed toward Gale and the past years he's been absent. Perhaps someone finally agreed with him that it was best to leave for a while, to see where things landed _without_ the burden of past consequences.

The hand Peeta shakes with is leathery. It's from all the baking, creating, painting that he's surely been doing. Gale can't help notice how similar and strikingly different they are from his own. Both build things. Gale used to build to destroy, but Peeta's have always built to invent.

Gale can't help the smile he gives Peeta as they sit down. He's a strong guy, stronger than the one Gale left. It's effortless to see why he got the girl, in the end.

But sometimes, Gale thinks he gave up.

Katniss comes around the corner, holding a plate full of biscuits and rolls in one hand, a hearty bowl of mashed potatoes in the other. She looks…matronly, setting the dishes down on either side of the meat. Gale bites his lip to keep from grinning. He never thought he'd see a day where she'd be in an apron, without any clumsiness in placing the dishes.

Then he doesn't need to bite his lip, because he starts to frown. He never thought he'd see a day where she could do these things, willingly, just because she wanted to.

She doesn't look at him as she sits down, gently looking at the rest bordering the table.

"I hope everyone's hungry," she says.

The family answers the immediate, like a small chorus, and it's when they all seem to glance pointedly at Gale he remembers this is supposed to be the first time he's seen her.

He gives a quick look to his mom, and gains confidence from her small smile.

"Hey, Katniss," he says.

She flicks her eyes to him, and they catch on the sling around his arm, widen just slightly, and then she covers it up so well, Gale has to blink to make sure he saw it.

Then she looks at his face, in his eyes, and it's so much more unsettling seeing the whole of them after not being able to in the forest. It seizes him, and it throws him off guard.

"Hey, Gale," she answers.

Then the eye contact is over, and everyone shifts. The stifling silence from it is washed away as Rory grabs a huge chunk of meat from the pan.

Peeta relaxes more into the cushion of his seat, giving Katniss a little nudge. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Gale tries to smile, and so does Katniss, but it doesn't entirely cut through the thickness.

He waits until every body's gotten their share of food before picking his own.

"Gale," Peeta starts, clearing his throat. "How've you been? You work in District 2, right?"

Gale clears his throat. "As good as I can be, I guess. And I used to, but I'm in the Capitol these days."

"Ah," Peeta says, and Gale waits for the next question, for the one that asks what he does in the Capitol. Strangely, it never comes.

Posy pipes up through the silence. "Ask what happened to his arm!"

Gale winces. Peeta smiles down to Posy. "Alright," he says. "What happened to your arm?"

From the tone of his question, it's obvious Katniss hasn't told him. "A wild dog, in the forest," he answers. "I wasn't paying attention."

"You were careless," Posy says, giving him her sternest look. Gale ignores her accusing eyes with a sigh. She's becoming Hazelle too quickly for his liking.

Peeta's face shadows, just a flicker, but it leaves his face a little dark. It's a tell tale sign that Gale's seen before, has felt before. He wonders if Peeta's phantom ghosts haunt him just as much.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Peeta says. "Wild dogs can be…terrifying."

"Yeah," Gale agrees, but he sees Katniss's worried glance to Peeta. He goes back to taking a bite out of his potatoes, giving Katniss a reassuring smile.

After a few minutes, his mom speaks up.

"You know, Gale," she begins. "You haven't told us anything about your job since you've been here. I think we've all been wondering."

Gale knows it's time, because he doesn't want to think about it, now. He never wants to think about it on his visits, because the visits are vacations - they're times when all he has to think about are Posy and Vick and Rory and Hazelle. He'll mention sometimes when they ask, if they ask, but they usually don't. They leave the subject of the _Capitol_ alone. It was always something they never talked about during the Games. And even after them, none of them ever felt the urge to talk about it. The fear, if it was indeed fear, was always there. Something always blocked them from leisurely talking about it. It's almost as if they still think they might be tried for treason if they say one wrong word, like the sky will burn down this new sanctuary and their new houses and their new life.

"I haven't," he says, taking a drink of water and swallowing deep. He glances toward Vick and Rory, who seem expectant, as if they'd been waiting for this one moment for him to explain it all. Posy glances up at him with her large eyes, and even Peeta has this hidden look of curiosity. Katniss is the only one staring at her food.

"I guess it's a long time overdue."


	4. cold desert

i never ever cried when i was feeling down  
i've always been scared of the sound  
jesus don't love me, no one ever carried my load  
i'm too young to feel this old - kings of leon, cold desert

chapter four - cold desert

* * *

The Nut was a mosh pit of broken rocks and thick, rough air. It was like walking through liquefied sandpaper, rummaging around and clearing out the spaces to the openings. Due to the scarcity of reliable equipment available, most was salvaged for the Capitol and District 1. They were hit the hardest. District 2, however, wasn't in the worst shape considering the state of the others.

But the resentment about the Nut was still fresh and raw. Many of the families with loved ones inside the Nut, the ones who never made their way out and even the ones who did – several were wounded, some traumatically – had loud, resentful voices toward the government sponsored groups helping to reconstruct the Nut. It was too late, they had said. It was too late to fix what was already lost. But even the principle of the thing – the rebuilding and coming together – was hidden in the people's blind spots.

Gale resented them just as much. He didn't understand how they could hate the idea of something so humanistic when they couldn't comprehend the evils of the Capitol and the Games, and how even now, abundant handfuls of the citizens were still pro-Snow.

On breaks, Gale would inhale as much as of the outside air as he could before he was sick of staring out at all the people passing by, acting like nothing changed, like nothing happened.

Sometimes, the air inside the Nut was better than the outside. It was dark and foreboding, with the ceiling in a perpetual state of instability, with sand falling on his head in threats. But it clouded his mind and made him forget that the world was just like it.

That was his first job. It wasn't until he left that he realized he was close to snapping, to destroying the Nut all over again.

He wanted it to make him feel righteous, and decent, moving the boulders and the broken sediment, creating a structure to hold all of the shattered roof above them again. But it didn't.

He was mainly sent away because of his attitude. It must have been bad enough for coworkers to complain about an uncomfortable atmosphere – though Gale was sure they got his attitude mixed up with the actual Nut itself.

He went to other places around 2. Relocated to the slums section. It was a turnaround from the Nut and the other places he'd seen in the District. The area was hit pretty hard from the rebellion, the rundown shacks and houses decrepit and deteriorating. Some houses had molding in the walls, termites in the foundations.

He had been stranded in the inner District for so long, he forgot the poor lived here, too. They lived everywhere.

He remade the support beams, poured cement into porches and sidewalks. It was such a radical change, being out in the open and hammering in shingles onto roofs. The children would smile at him, run across yards and play games, without having to care about tesserae and all the burdens of protecting family.

Here, helping out the people who knew what it was worth, made everything promising. It was a glimmer in the district, and what Gale thought back to when riots got out of hand and shady and political. Deals were stuck more often in the early years there in 2, which only let the cleanup stretch and stretch. It's why they built a government building and patched up the half-baked reconstruction jobs.

Gale sent the slums money, when he could.

That was his second job. It wasn't so bad. It was one of his favorites.

He was sent to the Capitol soon afterward. It was for clean-up, since debates were still ongoing over whether to rebuild the Capitol or leave it crumbled and broken – for a beacon and a symbol, so as history wouldn't repeat. Many wanted to bulldoze and start anew, to start over fresh. They argued that such a great space shouldn't be kept distilled and isolated. Once the population began to overflow, would they be able to sustain themselves among the Districts? It could create more jobs and more crops by uprooting the Capitol. Most importantly, the organization may be compromised in the impending result of such an occurrence. It could be chaotic, with District lines being redistributed and agreed on, the mess of people relearning but forgoing the new clause.

Others wanted the same, but for Snow's grand house to be spared. To be a historical marker, and be opened to the people on the anniversary of his death. That could be the symbol.

Still, there were quite a few who wanted to leave it as it was – the downfall of a dystopia. The ruins of what kept their lives under so much control and fear. It wasn't worth the effort to repair, new beginnings or otherwise.

Putting the bias spin on each reason, the first was selfish. It may contain a kind of hope, but most of the people for the idea of starting anew were from Districts 1 and 2 and the remaining who survived from the Capitol, among handfuls from others. Deep down, they wanted the Capitol to come back and sprawl, like it had done before. Perhaps it would be Snow-less, but they'd still have part of what they used to. Subdued in brainwash for so many years, the Capitol populous remained loyal to something already dead. District 1 fed off the richness they received and the bloodshed they, in turn, gave for entertainment. Their livelihood had been taken away. The District 2 Peacekeepers lost their jobs, and whatever essence of humanity they left behind in the effort of the job was still missing from them. Those had nothing but the Capitol. The whole of 2, disregarding Peacekeepers, was surprisingly split for the decision.

The second reason was also selfish. It contained the vestiges of revenge and vengeance remaining from the after effects of the war. Though the ideas fed off the natural paranoia against the Capitol, it was difficult to think it could be wiped away. It evolved too deeply, unfurled too completely.

Gale saw the spectrum of each. Practicality told him that the first reason would be better for the growth of the country. To fix it would be to help it, even if he could never see the Capitol as anything other as what it was and used to be. Repainting things wouldn't change his mind. But if they could clean it up, tear down everything and start the building process again without traps and deceptive motives, maybe it would turn out alright.

Then again, revenge and avenging was his default. After the blinding light from mending died down, he'd fall right back into the anger and hate he felt if they started rebuilding. Walking up the cracked sidewalks and shattered windows of the city, he liked the way it looked. It was broken and dead. The apartment buildings that were still intact loomed, wispy shadows connected to their foundations. They were like broken skeletons standing there, reaching toward him with bent fingers, with bugs crawling out of the eye sockets. If they kept it like this, then the Capitol would never ever come back.

It was a good thing it was just a cleaning job, right then, because Gale couldn't decide, for the first time, which side he was on.

When he reached the core, the most heavily battered center of the city, he saw the black and gray soot and felt the way it festered on his face like maggots and burrowing viruses. He went to grab blocks of freed cement with ragged edges, hauled them up onto the bed of the construction truck. The blocks had covered up the dried brown spots the explosions didn't burn away, leaving areas scattered with evidence of massacre.

Gale knew he felt anger and hate, but this time he knew it wasn't pointed to the Capitol and Snow and Coin. It was all concentrated on himself.

After a few weeks, he decided.

If he could feel vengeance against himself, and solely himself, he could keep it from clouding his mind against everything else. He could let his emotions become overpowered by unbiased opinion, as long as he was able to keep it under control.

He sent a letter to Paylor, though whether she would receive it or glance through it was highly doubtful. It was more for his own benefit than anything.

He was taken in several days later. The men wore District 8 army suits with guns strapped across their backs. They placed him in the back of an old army vehicle, and drove down to the inner city bunkers, where the workers lived for their time in the Capitol.

They pushed him out of the jeep, heading him toward a path he hadn't had the care to notice. It led to another old bunker, with nothing special on the outside, no signs or clues to indicate what it contained.

A hallway and a few doors later, Gale was in front of Paylor. She was sitting behind a desk, looking over a few papers. In the corner, he couldn't help but notice, was the letter addressed to her, the flap opened.

"Sit down, Hawthorne," she commanded, her voice weary.

He did as told, sitting on the edge of the chair.

"You read my letter, ma'am?"

"Yes," she said. "I did." She pushed away from the wooden desk, resting her elbows on the arm rests. She started to stare at him, face tight with seriousness.

"With your past, it came as a shock to know your opinion on the Capitol."

Gale straightened. "I tried to think about what was best for the people."

"And you believe demolition to be best?"

"...yes," Gale said.

"Why?"

It came off as bizarre for the president to pick apart one man's opinion. Gale quickly became defensive.

"What does it matter what I think?"

"It doesn't," she answered. "But it'll help with the final judgment."

"Why?"

"Because," she said. "You have to understand what a valuable asset you were in the war. Your beliefs were near the same as mine. And reading your letter helped me to figure out my deciding factors."

It still didn't make any sense. "How could it possibly help you with a decision?"

"You worked with Beetee and created a trap by using your intelligence against human nature. Correct? You acted ruthless on the battlefield, and you didn't let the emotional circumstances get to you. I gave you a job for a reason, Gale. Knowing my colleagues' opinion and you giving me this response – it makes me agree. As much as I hate the Capitol, it's reasonable to start over. The people who don't see it at first will see it later. I believe that. Do you?"

Gale rubbed a hand through his hair. "I was betting on that."

"Life's a gamble. I'm going to send the message out tomorrow," she said. "And I was hoping…"

She looked up to him. "Would you consider being placed on a roster? I've been building up a Special Forces squad – nothing ultimately military per se, but enough to ensure security. It would be for emergencies, like putting uncontrolled riots down, intimidating whoever is trying to put up conflicts, those sorts of things. You meet the qualifications, and I know you'd be a great asset."

Gale was still for a moment. He hadn't felt the barrel of a gun in a long while. But it wouldn't be any different this time around. He wouldn't let it.

"I can give you time to think about it, if you want."

"No," he answers. "I accept."

Paylor nodded, still looking at him with a critical eye. "Good. Great. I'll put your name down. Is your shape still up to par?"

"I run every day," he shrugged. "What requisites do I have to meet?"

"None, so far," she said. "Only that you come to training. We start every other day starting this Monday, from 0530 to 0800. It's running, shooting practice, and weightlifting. We'll also work on endurance, adding weight during the runs as we go along."

It'd be a fine routine. Gale was already itching to start. "Do you mean 'we' as in you, too?"

"Yes," she said, almost shocked. "You thought I wasn't?"

Gale gave a small smile. "You're President, now. I wouldn't be surprised if you let the power get to you."

Her eyes glinted, a type of burning perseverance behind them. "I won't."

Soon after, Gale was shooed out of the building, left on his own to get back to the work site.

And suddenly, that would be his fourth job, tied in with resurrecting the Capitol, after the span of almost two years.

But he didn't tell the dinner table any of these things. He didn't want to examine his life story over the smell of veal and mashed potatoes, with Posy's face glancing up with admiration and Vick and Rory's with expectancy. Peeta and Katniss were too close, too soon, and his mom had too much intelligence behind her large, soft eyes.

So he explained his fifth job, the one he still had.

"I work in the District Commerce Chamber. At least, that's what they've started to call it. I mostly work with regional economic development – but I usually work with all the Districts. Regional is just an easy name for it. I help make agreements to ship off certain amounts of resources to and from Districts, negotiate to make sure prices are fair, and keep the deliveries going. It's not very exciting," he says, giving Posy's nose a tap.

"So you get food to everyone?" Posy asks, swatting his finger away.

"Something like that, yeah."

"Well, that's cool," Vick says between mouthfuls of potato. "I was expecting some dark, mysterious occupation."

"That's only one of my jobs," Gale can't help half-teasing, though it's half-hearted.

"What? And you haven't told us? Unfair!"

Gale rolls his eyes.

"How do the negotiations go?" Rory asks.

Gale grimaces. "It's all politics. But they haven't been as terrible as they used to be, which is more than I can hope for."

"You make it sound like it's such a bad thing," Vick says, making a face. "Are politics really that awful?"

"Depends on the people, and what their ambitions are," Gale says, shrugging. "They're more of an irritation than anything."

"You're doing a great job, Gale," Peeta speaks up. "You can see how much it's helped here. I bet it looks just as well everywhere else."

Gale takes a sip of his water, smirking around the rim. "I hope so," he says. "But you gotta remember, it's not just me in the chamber. Several people work there."

"Yeah, I'm just saying it's…it's nice to know people are working for the greater good, for others. It's been a long time since then."

Gale refrains from jabbing back. The statement makes him flare up, and it's stupid. The 'greater good' is such an obscure thing nowadays, and getting food from place to place is more of a vital necessity than a _good_. And besides, it's a mere part in the whole.

But Peeta was always one for optimism, seeing the bigger picture of things. Gale considers it an invaluable trait - in such an ugly world, it's a rare thing to see the smile Peeta has, among the things that he's been through, that he's dealt with and seen.

He gives a covert glance over to Katniss, who's looking at him in scrunched up concentration. She lets her eyes slide down to the table cloth - clean and pristine - when he catches her stare, but her face retains creased eyebrows, as if she's thinking hard about something.

Gale knows Peeta's the way he is in large part to Katniss. The way he carries himself shows the utmost pleasure and happiness, and it's doubtful that anything but love could have put it there.

Then again, perhaps he had always had that edge to him, that deeply engraved carving of _beginning_, of _starting_. It's what Katniss needed, in the thick of things, and friendship never out-stands the width of love.

Gale had told himself that for a long while in the war, in the days after it, until he believed it and was able to let her go. But sometimes, he's still confused over it all. How it got to be this way, with burying himself inside the world, and her, treading above water - if she was even treading at all.

Yet, with time, the ill will left him. He doesn't feel any remorse when he watches Peeta weave his hand over hers on the table, how she ditches her previous concentration to a subdued smile toward him. It's gentle, in a way he hasn't seen in quite a while.

And it's then he knows – he didn't give up on her. He removed himself from the certain failure and drama and despair. Practicality won, unmitigated, just like it always has. Seeing this interaction now seals up all the previous doubts.

But through it, there's still a lingering nag. He just wishes she'd give him the time of day. Just one day. And maybe he'd get out of the ditch he dug by leaving.

"Gale?"

He looks down to Posy, whose eyes are stretched with thoughtfulness.

"What're you thinking about, Pose?"

"Does your job...make you sad?"

His first impulse is to lie. It stings around his lips, forcing to come out. It'd be better, here especially, and he could tell her the truth during story time if he had to.

But if she could read him, there's no appeasement he tries to find that lets him believe nobody else can see it.

"What makes you think that Posy?"

"It's how your eyes look."

Gale smiles at her, unforced, because she's staring at him so hard. She's trying to find a solution to something she doesn't even understand.

"What?" He crinkles his eyes to amuse her. "You mean like this?"

"No," she says shaking her head. She doesn't take the bait. It's not surprising. "They don't say things anymore. Remember when you told me eyes were like windows?"

Gale refrains from wincing at the memory. It was when he was eighteen, and she was only four. The sensation of blushing almost overpowers him. .

"Yeah..." he says quietly. "That was a long time ago."

"I can't see anything now. Does this mean you're unhappy?"

Gale isn't sure what to do. It's such a deep inquiry, the most thoughtful that he's had in a while from someone else. With Posy, it never was something to question. She was always a bit more intuitive than the rest.

Too bad she had to speak up now, since it's one he's been trying to answer.

"You know why I'm doing this job, Pose?" he asks, placing an elbow on the table, turning to face her. She shakes her head with eyes still wide. "I'm doing this for you. For all of you, here." He gives a quick acknowledgement to the rest of the table, avoiding eye contact. "There's not a way it can make me unhappy. In fact, it makes me the happiest I've been."

Her eyes are glistening with a buried reservation, but she keeps silent. Instead, she finds it within her to smile up to him.

"Okay," she says. He gives her a nudge. She latches into his arm in a hug, like she had before with his leg.

It's the same warming support he needs as he glances up to Vick and Rory, and how their eyes are questioning again. To his mom, who isn't looking to him anymore.

To Peeta, whose smile is saddened. And to Katniss, while she fosters her stoic glance toward him, though she's still concentrating, still contemplating his face. Whatever she's trying to find must be obvious. If Posy can see into him, so can she. But Katniss never was good with picking up on things, those years before. There's no telling if she's gotten any better.

They stare at each other a few long seconds. He feels like he should be trying to convey a message or open his eyes wider – so she can get a good look, so if she is still how she used to be, he can give her, at the very least, a better view.

She starts to frown, hazes out the glowering concentration, and moves her jaw around as if biting her tongue or cheek. Then she looks away, and moves food around her plate with the prongs of her fork.

Gale fears the mark of another disappointment.

Seconds pass, maybe minutes, but his dinner plate grows cold regardless.

"This is really delicious," Rory clears his throat, moving meat onto his plate in a second helping. He looks to Peeta and Katniss with a crooked smile. "Did you guys both make it?"

Peeta gives a side glance to Katniss. "It may come as a surprise, but Katniss did most of the work."

"Did not," she mumbled from the corner of her mouth. "Mashing potatoes isn't actual work."

"It's something," Peeta counters. "Besides, I wasn't the one to season the veil."

"You were busy making the dough for the biscuits," she says defensively. "Someone had to do it."

This makes Peeta laugh. "I agree with Rory. It's delicious."

She reacts with a small smile.

"Katniss could give you a run for you money, mom," Vick says, and Hazelle produces a mock glare.

"I don't have to feed you every day," she answers.

"Whoa, I'm not saying she's better," he winks to Katniss. "You'll always be number one in my book, ma."

She raises a brow. "Is that what you say to all the girls?"

It's a certain thing that the blush Vick's cheeks create aren't staged. "Only my favorites."

Rory rolls his eyes, still busy eating. "Villa-what's her face wouldn't like that."

"Villenia," Vick corrects, remaining nonchalant. "She knows I'm teasing."

This catches Gale's attention. "Villenia? You haven't mentioned her before."

"Interested now?" Vick lifts his eyes to him in surprise. "You didn't ask."

"I didn't know," Gale says. "I only knew a lot of girls were wrapped around your finger. Didn't know there was a specific one"

"Yeah, well," Vick starts after sipping from his glass. "I didn't know your job until now. It was just something in 2. I guess we're even."

Suddenly, the tone in Vick's voice is far from the general joking. His glance is sharp and pointed, his tongue edged with hidden bitterness. The clench in his jaw speaks many things.

Gale refrains from adding to the crescendo. If he continues this, here, it will undeniably become worse. It'll get louder and louder until ears burst.

There are words and impromptu speeches that are immediate in his mind, ways to pacify the exonerating antagonism settled into Vick. Gale sees a lot of himself in those eyes, and that knowledge is what keeps him from trying to reconcile, in front of too many people. He knows what will happen if he does.

"What's she like?" he asks.

Vick shrugs and says, "She's okay. Not much my type."

Gale says, "Do you not like her?"

"I do. But she's…different."

"Different?"

Rory snorts and says, "Villenia doesn't care about his 'knife throwing skills'." He emphasizes by using quotations with his fingers.

Gale grins.

"Shut up," Vick grumbles, hands curling into fists on top of the table. "It's not just that. She's…not very interesting. I don't know." He starts struggling. "I'll probably talk to Barbara instead. She's cooler."

Gale coughs involuntarily. "Just like that?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"I know there are a lot of girls around, but you should give Villenia a chance."

"I agree," Peeta says. "There's already more to her than the others, if I'm following right."

Rory laughs at the comment.

Vick sighs, "Alright, this is not the Vick's love life session." He rubs at his forehead with his fist. "I don't care what you guys want to say. She's not even pretty."

"Looks aren't – " Gale starts.

"Whatever, Gale. You went after all the pretty girls. Don't be such a hypocrite."

"I'm not," he says. "Just wait. You'll grow out of it."

"Are you saying you did?" Vick asks sharply. "Don't try to tell me you aren't doing the same thing over in 2. The Capitol. Whatever."

This gives Gale a pause. It's the truth. He's hidden in his own sphere – away from all the prying eyes. Nobody really knew him in 2 when he started, and nobody really does now. Besides, he's living in the Capitol, now, and he doesn't make as many rounds as he did when he was back in 2.

It's so simple that way, without those binding strings holding him back. It's freeing, and in a certain angle, reckless. Yet somehow, Vick can see it from miles and miles away.

"Old habits die hard," Gale says, uplifting his right shoulder. "But it doesn't mean I'm close-minded about it."

Vick doesn't respond, turning from Gale to his plate. Most of his food's gone, and he doesn't reach for the rest.

Hazelle decides to speak out, and at first Gale's forever grateful.

"So, Gale, are you saying you've met someone? Since you're so _open-minded_."

And then Gale realizes he felt relief too soon.

His teeth grind like tires on loose gravel, feeling betrayal. But there's these thoughts twisting around in a confused, chaotic dance, leaving acid marks inside his mouth. None of them are any good, and the answers aren't any better.

There's always Reeva. And Reeva's pretty. Stunning, even. But she was never for him. Too much fiery red, and too much smoke – all for choking and confining, with sharp nails digging into his skin.

Thinking about now, she has been his – if only partially – for a long while. How he left leaves her a mystery until he returns. Perhaps it's idiotic, when he says, "I've met a lot of someones." But he can't produce anything else without tainting his words with lies.

Hazelle gives him that infamous skeptical look. "Alright. Any _ones_, then?"

A cold quirk of a smile plays on his lips. He apologizes to Reeva, silently, because she's been one of a kind to him, however one-sided he lets it become.

"No."

He ignores the sights of Katniss and Peeta, in case he notices a look or a glance or something.

Hazelle tuts, her eyes roaming into furtive glances to Katniss, then says, "You know, I think it's time for that cobbler. Anybody agree?"

Rory hoots, and Posy and Peeta smile. Vick's still glaring, and Gale can't complain. At least he isn't talking.

Once the old plates are gone and new ones distributed amongst the group, the cobbler is placed in the middle of the table. It's a bubbling, gooey centerpiece, warmed and ready from the oven, and it's so appealing to the eye and nose after stresses of the dinner.

Rory's impatient hands carve out the first helping, the others more carefully taking their portions. Gale goes last again, because as much as he loves the look and smell of it, his stomach does not.

It's irrational, seeing the berries and thinking of that bush in the forest – throwing the fruit into the air and catching them in their mouths. It's a rare happy memory, and he tries to keep it from tarnishing. It was in a different life, but the feelings seep and make it rust. He forces a few bites in until his stomach grows tight in nausea.

It eases the pitiful sickness somewhat when he sees that Katniss moves the breading around, creating an illusion of eating. Whether she isn't hungry or feels the same as he, he doesn't know, and he tells himself he doesn't care.

"This is yummy," Posy says exuberantly, shoveling spoonfuls of blueberries into her mouth. "We need to do this more."

Peeta grins down over to Posy. "I think so, too. Whenever you all want to have dinner, by all means, our doors are open."

Gale can't help but notice how drained and pale Katniss's face gradually turns.

"That would be lovely," Hazelle says. "It's especially nice, since Gale was able to come."

"Really nice," Vick mumbles. Gale glances over to him.

"Definitely," Peeta agrees. "We can even have dinner again tomorrow, if you want. When are you leaving, Gale?"

Gale blinks over to him, knitting his brows. "I'm due back in two days."

"Well," Peeta shrugs, "if you want, we're free tomorrow."

His tone is slightly hesitant but his eyes gleam with opportunity. He nudges Katniss. "Unless you made plans," he jokes.

"…No," she says. "I didn't."

Peeta smiles, but says, "I understand if you want to spend time with family, though. Don't worry. We won't feel too rejected if you turn us down."

Gale rubs a hand through his hair. "Thank you, Peeta. I'll…think about it."

"Great."

"Don't you want to see Katniss again?" Posy pipes up, blueberry juice coating her lips and chin.

"Ah, Posy," he says, "you've got some goo right here…" he points. "And here…and here…"

She swats at his hand. "Quit!" But she giggles through her pouting, and reaches for a napkin.

"You've gotten pretty good at avoiding questions," Vick states. "Politicians do that a lot, don't they?"

"Vick," Hazelle bites out, voice chillingly stern.

He holds up his hands. "I'm just pointing it out."

Her glower seals his lips, and he says nothing else.

Gale wants nothing else but to write off all the jagged edges in Vick's malice, but it's a struggle to find each one. The obvious one would be easy, if he didn't have to say it in front of so many.

"I do," he says to Vick.

"What?" Vick asks to the ground.

"Want to…see her again."

Gale glances up to see her watching him. It's a bit like standing on a stage when she gives him her stare. His palms start sweating, and his side stitches like he's running and running. It never used to be this way, but the sensation is backward, and it mixes with the blueberry feeling, multiplying uncomfortably.

He clears his throat. "I hope that answers your question, Posy."

Vick's eyes are less severe when he looks up.

"Yeah!" Posy says, though she's looking back and forth between them.

Gale swallows. It isn't complete yet, what he needs to say.

"If you didn't know," he starts slowly, "I'm sorry. About not visiting more, or telling you more. All of you," he adds, earnest, looking around to make contact with everyone. "It's been a rough time. I hope you all can…understand it some."

He shifts in his chair, and looks up to Peeta and Katniss. "You don't realize how much I appreciate it – inviting me – us – over here. It's a definite change of pace to be sure," he says, trying to smile. "But I'm glad you did. I guess it's about time I saw you."

"Don't feel obligated to thank us, Gale," Peeta says. "We're just happy you accepted."

Gale nods to him, and to Katniss. He's sure she isn't happy about it, and it's irritating how much Peeta talks for her, but a little weight lifts nonetheless, and he's not so nauseated.

They stand a few minutes later, most plates clean and the cobbler three-quarters gone. Gale pushes in his chair when he feels Posy tug on his hand.

"You only have two days left?" she asks.

Her hair dangles against her shoulders, and frame her face, magnifying the width of her eyes.

"Unfortunately, little bug."

"Can I stay home from school until you leave?"

This makes him laugh. "You're gonna have to ask mom about that one."

She frowns deeply. "We both know what she's gonna say."

"I'll put in a convincing word, okay?"

She wraps her arms around his waist tightly, then pulls away and steps nearer to Hazelle.

Peeta and Katniss follow behind them as the family walks to the doorway. The farewells are said, and when they start walking down the porch steps, Peeta calls to Gale.

"Stop by the bakery, if you have the time."

He's so friendly, it's almost painful to talk to him. He's done many things, and Gale can't possibly say anything to come off as close to nice as Peeta is.

"Alright, I will," he says, and he hopes he does.

Katniss opens her mouth a few times, as if to say something that'll lift the rest of the weight and light a path in the right direction that he needs to take.

She says, "Goodbye," instead.

The shuffling home kicks up loose dirt and scuffs against their shoes. Vick persists in remaining eerily quiet. Posy stumbles along as best she can, the lateness and her full stomach becoming a struggle against her eyes. Rory only pats his stomach in a blissful state, starting a small whistle beneath the street lights illuminating the road.

"You handled it well, Gale," Hazelle says smiling. "I think it went very nice."

Vick snorts, "She forgives you completely."

Gale glares at Vick's profile. He's looking up to the stars, a smirk on his face. It's a vicious twist of the lips, his eyes shielded from Gale's view.

It's an act – it must be. Gale senses it. There is only so much one can hide behind harsh words and blank stares.

"I hope she does, someday. And you, too," Gale says.

"Me too?" Vick rolls his eyes. "I don't think two days can help with that, Gale."

Gale swallows thickly. "What happened, Vick? One minute we're hunting and we're fine and the next, you're ripping me apart."

"I'm good at acting," he says. "I realized once that you aren't coming back. Not now and not next year. You're not. You never_ came_ back. You're still _gone_."

Vick's words punch with definite conviction, and they push Gale to a stop. "What?"

"You know it's true!" he shouts. "You're a selfish prick, Gale. This is a two-way street. You're supposed to talk to us and you don't. Unless you're forced, like tonight," he spats. "And even then, you didn't tell us. Your words were so empty." He chuckles and shakes his head. "But what's the point, right? I get to _see you_. It's such a privilege."

"Vick…" Hazelle begins.

"Shut up, mom. Stop trying to make-believe."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rory steps up, holding out his hands. "Vick, calm down. Gale has a busy job, and it's hard to get away. I can relate to something like that." Rory side glances to Gale. "And things were…difficult to begin with. You shouldn't put all your blame on him."

"No, Rory, he should," Gale says, looking at Vick. "Everything he said was true. He knows it, and I've got a feeling you know it, too."

Rory sighs, moving his hands to his pockets. "Yeah, well, one victory at a time. You've seen Katniss, right?"

"After five fucking years," Vick says. "Think you could've waited any longer?"

Gale gnaws on the inside of his lip, while Hazelle shrieks after Vick's profanity. Then she sighs in defeat, hands pressing against Posy's ears in a mild attempt of protection.

"I'm going to put Posy to bed. Come home in one piece, boys." She walks away with Posy in tow.

"Yeah, I could have," Gale replies sharply. "I could have remained the coward, Vick. But I didn't. And it still isn't enough. Don't you think I know that?"

Vick's jaw juts. "I don't know _what_ you think, Gale."

Rory groans. "Give it a rest, Vick."

"How can I? How can you?" he turns, eyes crazed and angry. "How can you possibly give him the benefit of the doubt anymore?"

Rory's face begins to lose its calm. "Have you forgotten what Gale's done for us? Have you? And were you listening when he was telling us about his job? I give him the benefit. I'm damn proud."

Vick lifts his hands, exhaling loudly. "Whatever. I'm going home."

Vick steps briskly after the looming figures of Hazelle and Posy, black in their silhouettes. Gale motions for Rory to follow.

"Go on, Rory. I'll be behind you soon."

Rory hesitates, stares at Gale for a few seconds before giving a quick nod.

"Don't be too late," he says, then starts a slower, sedated walk. He doesn't continue his whistling, instead opting for a large sigh.

Gale watches them go, letting the image of them imprint on his mind. They are apart and broken as they walk, spread far and loosely connected. He knows when he leaves, it won't be like that.

He turns and looks away, down the road. He starts to walk.

Gale knows it's late when he arrives back. The moon has shrunk farther into the night sky, and none of the lights are on in the house. They left the door open for him, so he returns the favor by slipping inside before it reaches the creaky angle on the hinges, and clicking it back into place.

He passes down the hallway by Rory's door, hearing light snores. Posy's across the hall, but she must be sleeping heavily considering earlier in the evening.

Vick's room is next, and Gale hopes he's sleeping. He walks up to the crack by the door, and he stands there a few seconds before making his decision. He gives a gentle push and tip toes through the entrance. He doesn't bother closing the door, moving away from it and to the wall across from the side of Vick's bed.

He looks over to Vick, and his eyes are closed and breathing deep and smooth. He has a window placed on the opposite side of the room, and the moon sheds in enough light to illuminate his face and half of the comforter on his bed.

Gale leans back against the wall, and let's out an inaudible sigh. It would be so easy to talk to him with closed eyes, when they aren't accusing and ignoring. They won't listen, not after watching him tonight. But nothing that matters is simple, and Gales certain he's learned that in the past.

Either way, it doesn't stop him from ignoring the way he feels about it. He was never supposed to hurt him.

"Maybe if I tell you once, it'll be easier the second time around," Gale whispers, almost without enough breath to push out sound. "I hope I'm able to stop all your doubts about me."

He slowly sits, the back of his head brushing against the shadowed wall.

"But the truth is," he says. "I can't, because what you said - it's right. And there's nothing I can do to make that go away."

He sits there for while, staring out the window at the inky sky. There is no distinguishable feature, making it the focal point to disengage the eyes and blur thoughts. It lets the words flow better.

"I'm not a good person, Vick," he says. "I regret many things. And I don't want you to have regrets. I want you to be as different from me as you can. I want you to see the good in everyone before you see the bad. I want you to like all the girls you choose to go after, and not be so skeptical about the people around you. Don't hide behind humor, Vick."

Gale's voice is shaky when he exhales, and he rubs a hand roughly over his face. "I didn't have the humor you do, and I still don't, but hiding is all the same. The ending results leave the same consequences, but the intensities may be different. I wouldn't know - but I don't want it to be as much as mine. I don't want -"

Gale chokes on words, throat trembling and constricting into a knot. It's hard to hold back and keep quiet, because his breathing is fluctuating and the knot blocks him from swallowing it down.

He tastes salt on his lips - it's a sharp tang, contrasting against the stillness of the room. It's such a foreign discovery, a distracting wetness spreading into his mouth, that his breath catches and he makes a short, strangled gasp. It's an embarrassing sound, and he reaches up quickly to brush all the excess salt away. He hasn't _really_ cried since his father died, and he can't believe he's crying now, of all times to do it.

"Don't be like me," he says around his gasp. "Please don't. Please."

He puts the heels of his palms into the softness surrounding his eyes, pushing away the hurt, placing his forehead on his knees. He doesn't breathe in anticipation of the knot coming undone. It burns, and it takes a while, but when he puffs out the dirty air his lungs collected, the freshness he breathes in around him soothes and refines.

"You don't want to be, I know," he breathes. "But I see it. You don't understand how much I see it."

He leans back onto the wall again, bending his neck enough at an angle to watch the ceiling. But he opts not to, instead leaving his eyes to remain shut.

"You might not think so," Gale strains out after a while, throat raw. "But I love you, Vick. Whatever happens, however much you decide to hate me, I'll love you anyway."

Gale rubs at his face one more time, in fear that tears fell without his knowing. Then he stands, as silently as he can manage, and leaves exactly the way he entered.

He turns left in the hallway, and when he reaches Posy's door, he creeps in, crawls onto the bed, and gently nudges her into his arms. She makes a muffled noise, a sleep noise, but she cradles into him.

Gale puts his head just above hers, resting against the remains of the pillow she isn't using. He closes his eyes, and the sleep comes with her hands connected to his chest.


	5. metal heart

losing a star without a sky  
losing the reasons why  
you're losing the calling, you've been faking  
and I'm not kidding  
it's damned if you don't and it's damned if you do  
be true 'cause they'll lock you up in a sad sad zoo  
sew your fortunes on a string and hold them up to light  
blue smoke will take a very violent flight  
and you will be changed and everything  
metal heart, you're not worth a thing - cat power, metal heart

chapter five - metal heart

* * *

In the morning, Gale sees Rory off first. Posy and Vick are next, as they go walking together toward the new school. It isn't new anymore, about two years in place, but it's still a gleaming spectacle in the center of the town. It's vibrant and it's fresh and beautiful. They don't just teach about coal anymore. They teach basic history – what life was before the games, what life was like and maybe could be like again, if people so chose. There are many possibilities now.

They teach the four courses: math, english, history, science, along with the old they used to teach, to keep it consistent and broken up. It's still new, and a learning experience for the teachers chosen as well as the students. But it's getting better. The teacher meetings and administration conferences and learning workshops are letting the teachers become more and more exposed to their subjects. Colleges haven't taken off, and they are almost like a myth now. Hardly anyone knew they existed. In some odd years, Gale's hopeful they'll come around.

"Bye, Gale!" Posy shouts as she scampers out the door. Vick is close to follow, but he turns a little and looks to Gale and Hazelle.

"See you later," he says, and his eyes aren't so harsh, softened by the blessings of sleep, before he clambers down the steps, calling out for Posy to wait for him.

"He doesn't seem so hostile this morning, does he?" Hazelle comments to Gale, smiling at him.

Gale shrugs. "Hard to tell with him."

"Don't worry," she answers. "He'll come around."

Gale wants to soak in her words and feel what she says, but he knows the depth of hate, and how hard that is to erase away.

He copies her smile, and lets her believe that he does soak in her words. It is the best thing he can give her, when it isn't honesty. When he can't give her that, he can feed her with the good lies, as long as she'll believe them.

"But I'm glad last night happened," he says. "It helped."

She looks content as she pushes him into the kitchen with her, her hands already craving the method of cooking breakfast for him.

"I think so, too. Even if Vick is a little grouch. Teenagers are like that, you know."

"Was I?" he asks.

"The worst," she answers, laughing. "But you're okay now, mostly."

"_Thanks_, mom."

It's hard to ignore the forest after breakfast and chatting with his mom. She tells him to get out, absorb as much of 12 as he can, _because it only comes once a year, after all._

It's the best start for a day, and he's led there with an invisible leash. His arm might be rewrapped and inside a sling, but he knows nothing will hurt him in there. If anything tries, he's got a knife. But it feels like he has a pact with the environment, and they've signed their signature quite a while back with the poison ivy hidden inside vines and his blood that's been spilled.

"You'd think I'd get used to seeing you here," he says lightly, when he sits in his spot by the tree standing several steps away from her.

Katniss tenses, body still and rubbing against her rock. She keeps silent for a while again, not surprisingly.

She wasn't ever really surprising before. She had her moments, like when she'd get excited and drag him to a new spot she'd find hidden in the brush. Or when she smiled for him when he'd say something stupid. Sometimes, when she was the Mockingjay, there would be this vibrant life inside her, and it lured him in and he followed her wherever she went. It'd fade some, every once in a while, but it was still there. It left trails and tracking marks to trace, and that's what he did, by instinct and by choice.

But those were rare times, back then. After a while, it seemed as if the life had been sucked out of her.

He sighs, settling into the soft caresses of the grass. "I hope the family matters didn't make you guys feel uncomfortable, last night. Vick likes being the drama queen sometimes."

"It's fine," she mumbles, hands rubbing against the taut string of her bow.

"I meant what I said, though," he says, trying to stress his words. "It's nice seeing you, both of you. I appreciate it."

"I know," she says, but it isn't as stunted as her words the days before.

"Okay," he says back. The sun is still in the process of rising, and he feels the burnt orange painting his skin. It awakens the dull pains in his shoulder, and he rolls it, moving the inactive muscles, but he isn't careful enough. He feels a light tear and a warm spot of blood. It's small – tiny even, but the pain doesn't ease up, so he stops and massages it instead.

"You should have that stitched."

He glances over to her, her braid loose and hair straggling near her eyes. She's looking at his shoulder.

"I don't want to put my mom under that kind of stress," he says. "I'll have it done when I leave."

"Do you still have your twine?"

He furrows his brows. "Yeah…do you want it?"

"No," she says hurriedly. She pulls her knees close to her chest, the bow moving with her, sandwiched in between.

"You can have it if you want," he says, already reaching into his pocket. "I don't think I'll hunt for the next days."

"No! I don't want it."

He already has it in his right hand, and it dangles in the spaces between his fingers. He looks at it and rolls it around a few times, feeling the sleek roughness of the intertwined string.

He lays his head back to the tree, shifting carefully into a position to watch the sunrise. Despite his efforts, he keeps glancing back to her.

She's still a statue, but he can see her body rise with her breathing, now, and perhaps that's a good sign.

The sun rises at a lugubrious pace, but it is still as beautiful as it can be. Gale's happy he didn't miss it today. He never pays much mind to it on the training days, and he's in his office on the other days. One window occupies his office, but the blinds are usually down. He's always too busy to appreciate the view.

Once the sun rises higher, Katniss speaks up.

"You leave Saturday?"

"Yeah. Dark and early."

"Has it always been like that?"

"My visits you mean?" he asks, straightening up. "Yeah. I get five days for the week, but it means no more sick days."

"Oh," she says, fiddling with the tail of her braid. "Why don't you split them up?"

Gale blinks at her. "I always thought it'd be harder to leave, doing that."

Katniss shrugs. "You could come for their birthdays, and then for yours. For them. They'd like that."

Gale shifts fully toward her, staring at her hard. "Why would they like that better?"

She moves the bow out of her lap, and she rests her chin on her knees, looking at the grass. "Just because you're not here doesn't mean they don't talk to me."

"Right…" he says, and he's suddenly struck with thoughts he's never had. What did they say when he wasn't there? What type of conversations would they be? It's disconcerting. "What…kinds of things?" he manages to ask.

Katniss merely shrugs. "All kinds of things."

He doesn't push it, though the thoughts weigh heavy on his mind.

"It's nice here," he says, after some time passes. He lets out a brief sigh. "Gonna miss it."

She doesn't respond. But he's shocked when she talks again.

"Let me see the string."

"What?"

"The string," she says. She stands up, and darts over to him before sitting down. "Let me see it."

She's so close. It's funny – he has to refrain from backing away. Her hands are devoid of her bow, so he's not sure why he's in such a state of distress.

"Uh," he fumbles, the string still tangled with his fingers. He loosens it, grabs it and hands it to her.

She takes it, misses her fingers and his own by miles. She pulls out a small sliver of a needle from her pocket, licks the string, and slips it into a hole on the top of the needle. His brain takes too long to process what she's doing.

"What…"

"Just let me do this, okay?" She finishes tying a knot, keeping the string from falling. Then she looks to him and his shirt, then gestures awkwardly. "Can you…take that off?"

He follows her stare to the buttons on his shirt. Then looks back up to her. "Al…alright."

He struggles for a couple moments, finding the rhythm needed to force buttons through their holes with one hand. It comes easy after a while, most times. But she's too close for him to concentrate completely on the task.

She sighs impatiently. "Here," she says, placing the needle into his hand and taking over the buttons. They fall apart in less than a few seconds.

He's about to stop her, but she reaches over to unclasp the bonds of the sling. Her hair tickles his cheek.

"Katniss – "

But the sling is gone, and she's peeling his shirt off, right sleeve first, then left. His initial shock is still crawling all over him, but he still tries to move around to help her. He's suddenly afraid he'll touch her.

Once the shirt is halfway off, she works on pulling back the wrap around his shoulder. When her fingers graze across his skin, he jumps back.

"Don't," he says, glancing down to her fingers. "Here, I'll do it."

He undoes most of the wrap, showing the bright coloring of the wound. He lifts up his left to finish taking it off, but she doesn't let him.

"I can do this just fine now," she says sharply, grabbing her needle back from him.

He becomes coherent enough to realize she'll have to touch him to stitch him up.

"Wait, you don't have to – "

"Yes," she says. "I do."

The tone in her voice shuts him down. He knows he won't be able to change her mind, even though he feels like he should, like he needs to. Why is she doing this, anyway? Why is she -

She places her left hand near his chest for support, then hesitates with the needle in her other, getting closer with the tip, then backing away slightly.

"It's a sterilized needle," she says, as if it matters. Gale doesn't care. He's trying not to jerk away from her hand.

He glances to her, but her face is only a bare few inches away. He turns his head in the opposite direction so he doesn't have to look at her.

Once he looks away, she seems to calm a little more. He feels the needle pierce boldly into the skin. It's tender, and without medication it stings more than he remembers, but it's tolerable enough. He closes his eyes against it to avoid any obvious wincing.

Her hands aren't deft like all the nurses back in 2 or the Capitol, but that makes it all the more real. It takes his mind away from the pads of her fingers, and when he focuses on the pull of the string, the wisps of her hair disappears from his neck.

"Since when did you start carrying needles around?"

"Since I started knitting."

Gale breathes a laugh. "You knit, now?"

He doesn't see it, but he's sure she's glaring at him. "Yes. Surprised?"

"Yeah," he blinks, thinking he had thought too soon about her before. All of a sudden, she's doing all these things he'd never dreamed she'd do days after his arrival. "I guess I'm surprised at a lot of things."

She finishes her work, tying a small knot and clipping away the excess string with the needle. She sits back and examines her work.

He shifts a little, but still doesn't look at her. "When'd you start knitting?"

There's a pause before she says, "Not long ago."

"Why?"

He tries to acclimate to the silence between her words, but it makes him fidget impatiently.

"Because," she says. "I needed to do something."

"So knitting was the only choice?"

He looks over to her, only to see angry eyes.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I just…" he sighs. "You could do a lot."

"You think I sit around all day in the house?" she bristles. "When I'm not here, you think I'm locking myself inside?"

He doesn't think about any consequences when he says, "Yeah."

She blinks after him. "I don't. I do so much more. I – "

"Work in Peeta's shop?" he asks. "I know. But that isn't – "

"Just because I don't serve the country anymore doesn't mean anything," she bites out, showing more emotion than he's seen. "I never wanted to, but I had to. Don't you get that? I'm happy with knitting. Just because _you_ aren't happy doesn't make it fair for you to blame what I do."

"Katniss – " he says, but stops. He reaches out to touch her, to face his fear, but she jerks away.

He braves making eye contact with her, and he finally sees it. There's anger, and hate, and even a type of fear that's ripping up her features. He expected this when he first saw her, but now that he sees it, he much prefers the distant anger and apathy from days past.

It pulls at him, at his lips. "I'm sorry," he says. And after it comes out, he hungers to say it over and over. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She's unfazed. "For what?"

_Everything_ won't cut it, by anyone's standards. Gale reaches out again, and this time, she's too encompassed by her emotions to move away.

He grazes her cheek with his fingers. It's unnaturally warm, warmer than he remembers it being, and it isn't as frightening an aspect as he'd previously thought. It's not making his fingers melt or freeze and deaden like he presumed, but there's that ache to peel away the skin and see all the deep, solidified years that made her cheeks this warm.

Then he retracts his hand quickly, because those are such dangerous thoughts. Believing in them, _wanting_ them, would be a bad idea.

"Knitting is good," he says. "It's great. Keep at it, alright?"

She keeps a hard stare on him, though she relaxes slightly.

"Turn around."

"What?"

"So I can stitch your back.".

"Right," he stutters, and he shifts around to let his back face her.

He's less tense now that she's further away from him, but the surgical procedure feels the same. He concentrates on her finger tips. They're rough and calloused, and he knows that no amount of knitting will make them smooth again.

"Katniss?" he starts. "The other day, did you…when you shot me with the arrow, did you…" he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand. "When did you leave?"

She's quiet for a long time, and her fingers jerk the twine with too much force. "Why?"

"Because I –" he halts his voice. "I got lost in thought. Then you were gone when I looked up."

The silence is maddening. She finally says, "I left after you wrapped your arm."

"So you didn't…" he says, then he doesn't finish. There was a flicker of hope that perhaps, she had heard his poorly constructed, impulsive speech. But now that it was gone, there wasn't anything else left to do but repeat it now, in such a time of strong defenselessness. She'll listen, this time. She might hear him.

He swallows, and she finishes her stitching, tying off the knot from the rest of the string. Then she stands and makes her way back over to the rock and her bow, sits down and turns toward the open view again. Enough minutes pass before Gale can let himself believe that those moments were nothing but an interlude – a dream.

He opens his mouth, but all the words he started to think about evaporate off his tongue. He thinks, for a second, that maybe the words would come back someday, because as much as he wants to say them, for her to be able to hear them, to fix, fix, fix, their disappearance makes him pause. He looks down to his wound, and he lifts up his hand to touch it, feel around the redness and the spots that will bruise, around the spots she touched.

Perhaps, he thinks, the words left for a reason.

He slips his shirt back on, with less difficulty than before, but he leaves it unbuttoned, because his left arm feels weak and his right is shaky. He's sweating profusely, and he decides it's his time to leave the forest first for once – to cool down and to clear his thoughts. Being around her definitely won't help.

Once he stands, he almost thanks her. But he doesn't want to ruin the silence that has settled so delicately around them. It feels sacred, almost. He walks away instead.

* * *

Gale showers and grabs a quick lunch before he finally heads to Haymitch's house. It took a lot of thinking and a lot of eye rolling at his nerves before he decided it would be for the best.

There are many more people roaming outside than Gale remembers seeing since he arrived there, but most of their faces aren't recognizable. So many are new, so few are old.

Gale arrives in front of his door. He takes a breath then gives loud, rapid taps, enough to wake him if he's in an inebriated sleep.

He hears a deafening thump, some curses, a trip and a growl.

"Son of a bitch," Haymitch says, as he answers the door. He peers out, eyes squinting into slits.

Surprisingly, they aren't bloodshot.

"Haymitch," Gale greets.

His eyes open more, shock scrawled across his eyebrows. "I'll be damn. Gale?"

"It's…been a long time," he answers, scratching the back of his head. "Just wanted to touch bases."

"Well," Haymitch opens his door a few inches wider. "Wanna come in?"

It's funny hearing words like that from him. Gale doesn't know Haymitch well, if he knows him at all. He only knows him from stories and from those brief times they had contact with each other during the war. They'd acknowledged each other, but never had they had true conversations. Besides, who had the time to chit-chat back then? They were allies, so they were automatically friends.

Gale steps through, and he hears Haymitch shut the door behind him. Gale glances around the room, noticing it's the exact same layout as Katniss's and Peeta's, but the coloring is much different, and there are no paintings above a television, no television, and very few personal items. There's a couch, a few tables scattered around, and a vase of flowers in the middle of the coffee table.

It's very clean – almost immaculate. There are no overturned chairs, no awful stench coming out of any corners of the rooms, no puddles of dried spit on the counters.

Gale's never been inside his house before, but he'd heard enough complaints about cleaning this place from his mom that he'd conjured up a prominent image in his mind about what this place should look like.

Instead, it's the opposite.

"You've got a nice place."

"Don't sound so surprised," he says. "Your mom's magic with a duster."

"Yeah," Gale smiles. "Give her the right tool and she can make anything new."

"So, uh," Haymitch says, grabbing a chair to clamber into. "Come here for a certain reason?"

Gale sighs loudly. "Not…not really. I just wanted to see how you were doing, besides the updates from mom."

Haymitch shrugs. "As much as she tells me about you, I feel like there's nothing to talk about."

"She talks about me a lot?"

"Whenever she comes and cleans, and I'm here," he says. "Sometimes, I'm gone off doing some Paylor mumbo jumbo."

"Yeah," Gale says, "figured as much. How'd that happen anyway?"

Haymitch chuckles. "Wanna know a secret your mom never told you? She got me to get off my ass and start working again."

"That's a secret?"

Haymitch scoffs at him. "Yeah, it's a secret. You think I'd go around telling people Hazelle forced me into the government? Likely story."

"Thought you might like talking about my mom," Gale grins knowingly. "I don't think pushing you to the government was the only thing she did."

He gives a grunt. "Got it all figured out, don't you?"

Gale finds his way over to the couch and takes a seat. "Yep."

"Listen," he says, leaning on his knees. "All your mom does is push down my pride."

"What pride are you talking about?" Gale asks. "If I remember, you didn't have much left to begin with."

"Alright, kid, don't play cocky. If I remember, didn't you lose at the end of the day?"

Gale's reluctantly playful mood creaked to a halt. "Yeah, well, what does that have to do with you? I'm pretty sure you're just trying to act like you feel nothing for my mom, when you love her."

"Love her? She cleans my house and cleans me out. All my drink is down the gutter. She did that to me."

"A good thing, I hear."

"Withdrawals," he snorts. "The good those did me."

"Why do you stay here when she cleans?"

"What do you think?" he mocks. "So I can make sure she doesn't find my new stashes."

Gale scowls. "How'd you get away with that?"

"After the shock of no alcohol, I got to 'wean off' my intake. I'm now_ scott free_ and haven't drunk in a year."

His words are cutting in their sarcasm. Gale feels his spine shift, like there are dark fingers crawling up his back. "So you lie to my mom? Good going, telling me."

Haymitch looks over to him, eyes hardened. "I told you for a reason."

Gale blinks. He already knew he wasn't going to tell his mom. It'd hurt her feelings if Haymitch was being truthful in faithfully lying to her. If she thought he hasn't been drinking, and she took pride in the fact that she helped him off it, it would upset her - disappoint her.

Gale growls. "You think I'm going to let you lie to my mom like that?"

He smiles roughly. "Yeah. Because what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Am I right, Gale?"

There isn't much Gale can say to that. He gives Haymitch the harshest glare he can muster.

"So you string her along?"

"I don't give her any hints that I _am_ stringing her along," he says, digging his elbows into his knees. "She makes it all up in her head."

Gale clenches his jaw.

"Don't know what I can do about that."

Something ruptures inside Gale. It leaks out all the anger and hate he hasn't felt in a long while, and it floods his veins, unrelenting, making his face hot and his neck pulsate with the rich feeling. It's a flash, a rush, and his cheeks burst in red.

He curls his fists on his pant leg.

"Fire her," he says quietly.

Haymitch leans back, looking at him curiously. "You'd risk hurting her?"

Gale gives him a wicked smile. "_I_ wouldn't hurt her."

It's a gamble. Watching Haymitch's face and all the subtle changes doesn't get Gale far. Haymitch is a master at hiding emotions. And even now, he gives nothing away.

"You're giving me permission, now?" Haymitch asks.

"Are you going to use it?"

Haymitch stares at him, and Gale keeps up, trying to wear him down, to pull out what he's trying so hard to hide. There's a shadow in his eyes, a darkened veil.

After a while, Haymitch seems to twitch. His cheeks drag and he's tired – Gale is well acquainted with the look he's showing him now.

"I should," he answers. "I goddamn should. Get her away from me. Stop her from coming to this shithole, clean up all the trash I leave her. Sometimes, I mess this place up more than I need to, just so she has more to clean and less time to talk to me."

"You know she's happy that she comes here? Every Monday, whenever I'm here. Always happy."

Haymitch is quiet for a while, twisting his fingers around the loose threads in his chair.

"Don't know why. When Monday comes around I throw out all my drinks anyway. Just to buy more the next day, then I don't even drink it. I try, and sometimes I do. But usually, I just stare at it until Monday."

Cycles. Gale understands it. He hopes there's more to Haymitch confessing to him rather than just the fact of him being Hazelle's son.

"And I _need_ it," he continues. "But I - can't drink it."

"Why don't you tell her?" Gale says. "She'd appreciate it. And you don't have to feel like you don't deserve her. Who's to judge that?"

Haymitch looks up sharply. "How can you say that? I don't deserve someone like her. I – "

"Listen," Gale says. "You've lived long enough with nothing. And now that you have something, why not take it?"

Grinning crooked, he says, "I've got the feeling you don't exactly believe what you're preaching."

Gale sighs. "I believe it enough. My mom loves you. She's already got her family. She has things. She doesn't need you but she would like to have you, and who are you – who has nothing – to keep it from her?"

Haymitch watches him.

"You're not _any_body, Haymitch."

Haymitch still keeps up bravado, lips twisted in amusement. "So's that the reason you came all the way over here? To tell me I'm nothing?"

And Gale's fists are still clenched; he can't relax them. He takes a deep breath, tries to cool his head.

"Where's your stash?"

"You think I'm stupid?"

Gale scoffs, "Are you kidding? I just want a drink."

Haymitch rubs the back of his head, gives a hardy laugh, and fetches the white liquor.

* * *

"And then, there was this one time…" Haymitch guffaws. "There was this one time when I fell asleep with my head inside the toilet – "

Gale snorts. "That's better than dog shit."

Haymitch guffaws some more. "Dog shit!"

"It was dark, alright? I didn't see it. And I was tired."

"No wonder no one likes being around you. That kind of stench doesn't go away."

"Shut up," Gale drawls, a sloppy smile lingering on his face.

The stashes Haymitch always buys turned out to be enough to get an elephant drunk. Gale hasn't had so much in a while, and he isn't really containing it well. Haymitch, though his old temperance is coming back, is still a bit wobbly on his legs. It seems it only took Gale's drink from his stash to propel him into drinking.

Gale feels that blurry haze settled around his eyes. The kitchen counter is a nice, granite blob, all cool and smooth against his hand. He rubs it back and forth. And the words he speaks come off his tongue as uninterrupted like the counter. All smooth and cool.

He can't see it, but Haymitch starts to slow down his intake, slowly spinning his bottle around on the table.

"You know," Gale starts. "I'm pathetic. Remember Prim? Yeah. She's all over the place. And Katniss, too. Every time I see her, I think I'm gonna puke. Katniss, not Prim. I always puke sometime after I see Prim. I think. Feels like it."

Haymitch leans against the counter, diagonal from Gale. He takes a swig from his bottle.

"You did kill her, you know."

"I know," Gale moans. "I don't wanna talk 'bout it."

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

"Like I know. Hey, you know what I think?"

Haymitch smiles close-lipped at him. Gale talks a lot when he's drunk – but Haymitch is much more taciturn and aware. He never has anyone to talk to when he drinks.

"What?"

"I don't know who Katniss is anymore, but I still love her. Wait, that's not right. I mean…I don't know what I mean. But she makes me feel weird."

"Girl troubles, eh? Still? I thought all that was done."

"It_ is_ done," Gale emphasizes. "I'm just…drunk." Then Gale starts laughing.

Haymitch finishes his bottle, then takes the liquor away from Gale, just out of his reach. "Guess you don't need any more of this, huh?"

"Hey, wait," Gale slurs. "I'm not _that_ drunk. Just _drunk."_

"Yeah. You are," Haymitch guffaws again. "Who knew you'd be such a chatterbox."

He groans at him, letting his head fall onto the counter. "Why don't you just go see mom? Get it over with."

"She's working."

"Coward."

"Hypocrite."

"What are you talking about? I talked to Katniss and Peeta, multiple times, and all you do is wait for Monday…"

Haymitch glowers at Gale's head. "At least I don't wait for once a year."

"At least I'm not sixty-something, still hating myself."

"I'm not sixty-something. Not yet," Haymitch sniffs.

"Too bad," Gale bites. "You look seventy."

Haymitch huffs angrily, but he remains quiet. Gale can't tell from the blur spots around his eyes, but he tries to show his annoyance.

"At least I don't pine for a girl who dumped me five years later."

"I don't!" Gale shouts, pounding his fist on the granite. "I just want her to like me."

"Like I said. Pining."

Gale pounds his fist again, bracing his hands on the counter top and lunging. He barely hits Haymitch in the side, gaining an _oof _of surprise. He ends up slamming his back into the cabinets.

"Reconciliation," Gale spouts, his breathing ragged as he lies on the ground. "Make-up. Atonement. Whatever."

Haymitch chuckles as he steps over Gale. "Big words for a drunk."

"Yeah well, I get more sober when I'm mad."

"Unfortunate."

Gale tries to stand up, but he trips over the tile of the floor, and ends up in the same position.

"I think I opened my stitches."

"Stop complaining."

"I'll stop complaining when you stop wallowing."

Haymitch sneers.

Not soon after does Gale feel the dregs of sleep. He fights it for a while, but the warmth around his head is too much. He passes out on the tile, his forehead leaning against the small overhang of the cabinet.

Haymitch has it in him to step on the stitches Gale was talking about, but he doesn't know where they are. He's not vicious enough to find them himself.

Instead, he steps over him, washes his hands of the alcohol, and runs a hand through his hair. He grabs a peppermint from the little crystal bowl on the bar of the kitchen, and he pops it in his mouth before he steps out the door.

* * *

Gale registers later. He's not sure what time it is. The lighting hints at late afternoon, indicating he was out for a good few hours or so, but he guesses it doesn't matter. He sits up, remembers he was drunk as he looks around Haymitch's kitchen. There's a poignant pulsing in the middle of this forehead, and his tongue is dry and furry. He grabs a hold of the counter with his left hand, but the strain and pull against his stitching is too much. He slouches back against the cabinets, breathes a sigh, and pushes up with leverage from his right hand.

He leans on the counter by the sink, thinking past his headache toward what happened during the free drinks. Not much comes to mind, but muddled bits of conversation, story swapping, and other nonsense that didn't matter.

He wipes his face with his hand, then scouts through the cabinet doors for glasses. Finding them, he takes one and fills it with water from the tap. He sips a few times, enough times until he has to spit out the last of it before it brought up the remnants of liquor that's left in his stomach. He really needs to steel up again. He's never been this weak of a drinker before.

He empties the rest of the water down the drain, and leaves the glass in the sink. He turns out of the kitchen, but grabs a peppermint on impulse, out of a small bowl he hadn't seen the first time. It's the only decorative accessory in the kitchen besides the dish rack, the stove, and the oven. He plays with the crinkled plastic. It comes to his mind that this was from his mother on one of her visiting days. A small memento, something that would last a while and be hard not to notice under the lighting of the kitchen and the shine they create. He should leave it, because he's got a feeling they're only for Haymitch, but he thinks better of it. He opens it and pops it into his mouth. If anything, it'll soothe his throat in the long run.

The stillness of the house is a telltale sign that Gale's alone. He steps out of the door seconds later, walking over dropped and cracked bottles bordering the kitchen.

And he wonders where Haymitch went – half-sober and confused and still bemoaning his life, while Gale was out cold on the floor. He wonders if he went to see Hazelle - it's definitely late enough in the day for her to be home from working. Gale turns on his heel, changing his direction from his house to somewhere else. He's hopeful, and he hopes his thoughts don't jinx or spoil anything that may be happening behind the scenes, between his mom and Haymitch, if anything is at all. He hopes something is, at least.

Then his heel jolts because there's Katniss again, kneeling beside a bush planted near a window of her house. The flowers are full and luscious, though it's nearing mid to late autumn, with leaves as green as Gale had ever seen this close to winter. There is no hint of the dying brown tinting them.

He doesn't want to bother her while she's cradling each and every flower inside the palms of her hands. It seems to be a ritual, with her crouched and face bowed low on her neck. He can't see her face to be witness to any fresh tears, if there are any. She's still as quiet as a statue without being aware of his stare on her, and this somehow makes the picture a bittersweet symphony – something beautiful with a resounding emptiness.

He wishes it was him, only him, that made her feel that way, acting stiff and still and broken, but it isn't. It's all those primroses on the bush, too, and it's hard to watch it happen a mere few feet away.

He steps toward her, boots crunching on the concrete. He stops again. Whenever he's near her, he feels as if his sound amplifies. Even with the concrete of the street, he's louder than the chatter of the neighborhood and the wind of the District.

She's too absorbed to notice. It gives Gale a pause, a moment's hesitation. It's the chance he takes to turn around and backpedal, and remember that he is not her friend anymore. He can't do a thing.

Soon, when he looks back, she's out of his sight.

* * *

He finds himself picking up Vick and Posy from school. He doesn't loiter for long until the doors open and kids stream out of the building, separating into clumps of twos and fours, while others detach and walk on their own.

Posy's class comes out before Vick's, and her eyes immediately dart to see Gale's across the sidewalk. She chirps, weaves through the rest of the ten year olds, and pummels into Gale's stomach. He grunts at her.

"Someone's getting stronger."

"It's from punching all her guy friends," Vick says, following up Posy at a much more reasonable pace.

"Didn't know you were so tough on them, Pose," Gale says, patting her shoulder.

"I'm not," she answers, letting him go. "I just run away."

"Running away isn't fun."

"Yeah. But they can't catch me," she says, giving a smile. Then she peeks over to Vick. "Don't you want to see Villenia?"

"I saw her at lunch," Vick shrugs, averting his eyes. "I've got time to see her later."

"But you say bye to her every day!"

"Well, not today. I'll do it tomorrow, alright?"

"But, Vick…"

"But nothing, little squirt."

"You've been avoiding her all day!"

Vick looks shocked for a second, then quickly recovers. "Now you're making things up. Since when do you see me during the day, squirt?"

"All the time! Lunch, passing periods, and break time. And don't call me squirt!"

Gale starts smiling. He can't help it. He's never had the chance to see them quarrel like this before.

"I'll call you whatever I wanna call you. I'm older."

"Well you never said you didn't avoid her. So there!" She sticks out her tongue.

"I didn't avoid her. Happy now, munchkin?"

Little Posy starts to fume. "I guess we could just ask her instead," she says. Then turning she shouts, "Villenia! Over here!"

Vick goes sheet white, his complexion growing into a sickened pallor.

Gale guesses he could have intervened, but Vick is way too vulnerable, and it's such a valuable rarity.

"Alright Pose, alright. I'll never call you names again, I swear, I'll -"

"Too late," she grins sweetly.

Gale glances up to see a girl confusedly walking over, taking him in in a small glance, and looking over to Posy and Vick while biting her lip. Posy dashes off to meet her halfway, possibly solidifying that she'll finish the journey over.

"Alright, Posy," Villenia says, now crookedly smiling. "What's this about?"

"You and Vick," she huffs. "Duh! Why else? C'mon Gale, let's head home." Posy starts pulling on his wrist, and Gale's delightfully elated when Villenia stops them.

"Hang on a sec," she directs to Posy. Posy hesitates in glancing back, but Gale pulls enough to force her to stay.

"So, you're Gale?" she grins, reaches out her hand. Gale takes it. "It's nice to finally meet you. Vick mentions you all the time."

Gale finds this hard to believe. "Really? Well, I wish I could say the same for you, but – "

Vick snorts, and surprisingly, Villenia starts laughing.

"No, he wouldn't," she says, her eye curving up with a raised brow. "He hates me."

Gale quirks his face, not sure how to react. "I don't think so."

"No, really," she assures, glancing over to Vick. For the first time, Gale notices the large gap in between them. "He doesn't think I'm worth the time of day. But the feeling is mutual. So I guess we're even."

Gale glances down to Posy as she simultaneously looks up to him.

"Oh." Gale scratches his head. "I'm sorry. I got it all wrong."

"But..." Posy looks astonished and annoyed. "But you guys used to talk all the time! Vick followed you around everywhere. That's what some boys do to me too! So I thought.."

Villenia kneels down to look Posy in the face.

"Don't worry, Posy. You and I were both wrong. And really, it turns out that your brother can be funny. But he's nothing else that makes me _rapt _with attention," she says shrugging, her voice dripping with mockery. "I'm glad he's finally leaving me alone." She stands up after giving Posy a small poke on the stomach. "Didn't you want to go after all the other girls, anyway?"

Vick stares at her – has been staring at her the entire time. When Gale glances away from the girls' interaction, he can't help but see the way Vick looks at her.

"Yeah," Vick says. "There's a lot of interesting girls here. I wanted to prove you were. You know, to help you out. But I guess everyone was right about you," he shrugs, mimicking her cool phrases. "It's a shame, living up to such low expectations."

This earns him a hot glower from Villenia. "Knives," she says. "I never really got it. But if that's what gets all the other girls willing to suck your face, then I guess they weren't expecting much from you either."

Vicks jaw buckles in a refusal to back down, but his face tells a different story. He relents, and he says in a slightly calmer tone, "What _else_ do you think of me, Villenia?"

She lets her glare continue. "You're a real – " she pauses, glances toward Posy, then says, "A real _jerk _sometimes. But you're good for a laugh sometimes, too." She shakes her head, almost in pity. "Like I said, nothing more than that."

She faces Gale and Posy after she says that, looking sincere and apologetic, though her voice is still detached. "I'm sorry I went and said all that in front of you guys. I just.. We just –"

Gale holds up a hand. "Don't worry about it. I think we all want to tell Vick what's on our minds every once in a while."

She smiles a little. "I'm happy I finally got to put a face to the name, though," she says. "And thanks for calling me over, Posy."

Posy clutches Gale's pant leg, looking terribly torn and a slightly distraught. "You're..welcome."

Villenia gives them all one last smile, saying goodbye. Then she turns to Vick, and she says, "Goodbye, Vick," with that same small smile, acting as if none of the words she threw at him happened at all.

"Bye," he says, and he watches her leave them in the field. When she's out of sight, Vick's still watching.

Gale reaches out to pat his shoulder. "Let's head out, Vick. Dinner's probably almost –"

Vick is vicious in his jerk away from Gale's hand. "Yeah, yeah, let's go."

And Gale wishes he intervened after all, because Vick sounds more unforgiving than before.

Vick is out of earshot in a few seconds time. Posy stops Gale from keeping pace by grabbing at his leg and pulling. She looks up to him with her large meaningful eyes and says, "It wasn't supposed to happen that way. She was supposed to forgive him for being so mean to her."

Gale gives her a sad smile. "Sometimes," he says. "Sometimes, he's got to learn how to show her why he deserves to be forgiven. Until then, he's gotta face the consequences, Posy."

He prods her along until she whispers, "But he loves her."

Gale shoots a short glance to her and sees tiny tears on her cheeks. He reaches over and wipes them off with his hands.

"Yeah, Posy, I know."

He sees Vick in front of them, roaming forward and fuming, with his hands in his pockets and his back hunched up with all his tense muscles.

Gale wonders if Vick understands that sometimes, the people you love are never meant to love you back. And now, he feels so much more desperate than before, because of all the people in the world it can happen to, Vick is one of the last. Age, right now, doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if Vick is young, and what he feels for Villenia is a strong but dwindling pass of emotions.

No matter what Vick says about it, about anything, whether he laughs or acts like he doesn't care or pushes away with all kinds of force – it's all pretend. He's the biggest pretender of them all.

The worst part is that Gale can't do anything about it. He can't change Vick's feelings or arrogance or bravado or method. Gale can't protect him. And in a few more years, Gale still won't be able to protect him. If Vick keeps it up, he'll be a nasty sight of a man. Maybe he'll be the Haymitch of the District in the years to come. Or maybe he'll grow up. Either way, Gale doesn't want to take any chances.

It propels him to let go of Posy and catch up to Vick. Gale yanks his shoulder, effectively turning him around in a mad stumble to catch his balance.

"What the hell?"

"Posy, you'll be okay walking the rest of the way, won't you?"

She nods, keeping a wide stare on the both of them.

"Tell mom we'll be home soon," Gale says. At his look, she forces herself to scamper off, eyes worriedly staying on them, loose tears still falling, until she turns the corner of the block.

"Gale," Vick says sharply. "What – "

"I didn't tell you," he says, "about what I did back in school, did I?"

"What does this have to do with anything – "

Gale grips Vick's shoulders. "We do the exact same thing, Vick. And none of it really matters, until there's one that does. I lost my chance. I don't want you to lose yours, too."

Vick stares at him. "I'm not going to be like you, Gale."

The reply gives him a momentary pause. "Right, Vick, you won't be. And the best way to keep it like that is to not regret the things you do. If you want to go find her, then you should."

"Who says I like her? I'll go after her if I want to. I'm not as weak as you are."

Gale slowly releases his hold on Vick, resting his arms by his sides. "Okay, Vick," he says. "I trust you. I won't bother you about things like this again, as long as you promise…no regrets. Alright?" He puts his hand out for Vick to take.

Vick looks at it for awhile, before making eye contact with Gale. "You don't…have to make this so serious, you know?" he says, and then he takes his hand.

Gale smiles at him, most of the desperate sensations vanishing, just like that, leaving a bit of relief in their wake. "I think I do – at least, with you."

Vick blinks down to their hands and slowly lets go.

"But Gale?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I guess," he says, rubbing the back of his head and starting to walk.

Gale follows him as he puts his hands securely in his pocket, trapping the warmth of the promise in his hands, and praying that it'll stay there.

* * *

a/n; for imagination's sake, let's just say that twine is good for stitches. ;)

anonymous review replies:  
Mrs obsession: Oh, my goodness! Sorry i've been making you cry so much! it isn't intentional, i promise. :) and thanks so much for taking the time out to review! hope you enjoy the next chapters!

everyturnasurprise: i always thought the Hawthorne's needed more screen time. i don't think i remember ever reading about Vick or Rory or anyone. i figured i'd give them some life. :) thanks for reviewing.

Kingfloppy: fffff yes. their friendship was strong - and i hated how Collins ignored that. or, she tried to show us how it broke, and how they didn't need each other anymore, but it was so rushed and Gale just disappeared. anyway, i feel your pain. hopefully i'll be able to change that! (:

shellbell0944: i read your review and didn't even know what to say. thanks so much for it - my ego loves you. but i'm just glad i'm able to breathe life into the story, and make it believable at the same time. i hope you stick around!

anon: gahh, i hope you stick around, too. your review was awesome. the end. give me another one like that. ;)

KJ: i'll definitely keep it going, that's for sure! thanks!

Mae: thanks! i'm glad you're enjoying the family interaction. i wanted to explore them a little, at least. and it's going to be a challenge to get Gale and Katniss together, but i've got ideas for the future. :D


	6. sickness

a/n; thanks, as always, you awesome reviewers, you!

my doll, pure hearts,  
turn the tables and push it out  
and watch me slowly break - hugo, sweetest cure

chapter six - sickness

* * *

The next day could not come fast enough. Gale didn't think there would be a reason for him to want to leave his home faster, but dinner was not a fabulous affair. Everyone was worn down, all for different reasons, and no one seemed to want to speak about them. It was hard not to let all the feelings seep into Gale, along with his own, and the effect cascaded all around the house.

Posy was still upset from the run in with Villenia, cheeks splotchy and red, with dried tear stains visible to the trained eye. Vick remained quiet, with no energy left to crack jokes and too dampened to care. Even Rory, who missed all the action of the day, stumbled into the door with the coal dust hanging off his neck and arms and hair, eyes hidden by the messy tufts of his bangs. He didn't say a word to anyone, only speared his food and ate and ate and ate.

Gale could taste the dust cloud of ash, and there was something addictive about it. Everywhere he went, that kind of taste followed him, and it was so familiar, it was soothing. The dosage was just right, filling his lungs with a slow burn, acting like a makeshift cigarette. It hazed his mind, coating his tongue and stapling it to the floor of his mouth.

It didn't help any when he looked to his mom. She was the most downtrodden of them all, her heart noticeably heavy through her clothes and loose apron she forgot to take off. She became the sharp headache against the artificial warmth through his body, and he just knew he screwed it all up. Haymitch screwed it up, but it was all Gale's fault. He should have never gone to try to knock any sense into that brainless fuck. He didn't know why he was so apprehensive of visiting him, anyway. All that happened was another mistake, and he wasn't sure how to patch this one up before his time was all gone.

He ended up spending the night staring at his ceiling. He had weird thoughts. He started thinking about his father, then his mom, then what his father would be thinking with his mom being all sick and sad over a man that wasn't him.

But it was fair, wasn't it? To love someone else? His mom would still wear the ring some days, when she was really missing him. But other days, it would be nowhere. It would be hidden and out of reach. It constituted her strength, how she still loved him, but let him go. It was a process, but the greatest mending there could be.

Did Haymitch have someone? Someone who was taken away from him, too? His eyes were tragic enough. His life was. Gale couldn't figure out if that would make Haymitch a selfish person or not, to hurt others by detaching himself from all of them. Wouldn't that be a twisted way of keeping them from hurting more? To keep them safe from their tragedies? Or was he just a weak man?

But, if it was true, if detaching was selfish, then Gale was a very, very selfish person. It didn't change the fact that he would only stay for five days.

The next morning, Gale can't bear to go to the forest. She'll be there, and he still hasn't gotten anywhere with her. His stitches ache, and he has yet to figure out what they mean - why she did it, what they're supposed to be for. Maybe they're just a memento – a token she left him, this time. But it's supposed to be the other way around. Walking down the streets of District 12, he fears he'll miss the chance to leave her with something.

He trudges into the shopping square, all the stores waking up for another morning. But there's one already hard at work, the smells hitting his senses in all directions. It pulls him in, and he steps through the doors of the bakery.

The yeast and the dough are much more concentrated in the space. It stings his nose, and causes him nausea instead of hunger or cozy heat.

There are several people inside, buying raw dough for cooking later, or pastries for a quick breakfast. Some are dizzying in their haste, others lackadaisical and slouching in the stools or benches. The place is bigger than it looks on the outside. Deceptive bricks and windows that beckon into a wide, happy space.

Gale takes a seat by the windows, waiting for the people at the counter to dissipate. He watches Peeta donate genuine smiles toward everyone he sees. The bread is no doubt a wonderful creation, but there are people who come for the smiles alone.

Gale's not sure when, but Peeta makes his way over and takes a seat across from him.

"Gale," he says brightly. "I was hoping you'd make it."

"Yeah. Couldn't let you down," he replies.

"Did you want anything to eat?"

"No," he says, a little too quickly. "No, thanks. Big breakfast."

"Of course."

They're silent a while, and Peeta seems to fidget, his eyes looking hard at the table before coming up to look at Gale.

"I…want to talk to you about something."

There's a heavy weight in Peeta's voice, a seriousness that's hard to define. Gale sits up straighter.

"It's about Katniss," he says, keeping eye contact. "It's a big question, and a big risk, so don't shoot it down right away, alright?"

Gale nods, but he knows it's a lie. When things come to Katniss, he's sure there's a great rift between them on what they can and can't agree on.

"I've been thinking. And maybe," he says. "Maybe she can go with you for a few days."

Gale chokes. "That's a bad idea."

"No, hear me out." Peeta's hands clench slightly. "Katniss needs this. She needs to experience what the world feels like. The first time – there wasn't even a first time. That wasn't the world, was it? It was arenas and traps. I tried to protect her from it the best I could, but now it's different. Things aren't the same."

His voice is passionate and straining. It's obvious he's thought about this a long time.

"Yeah," Gale says, after a while. "But it doesn't mean it's better, yet. What do you want her to see, Peeta?"

"I –" Peeta falters. He can't get words out, and Gale can almost feel his apprehension and frustration. "It's more of wanting her to know that there's life outside. I've given her this journal. A notepad. She writes down the good deeds she sees people do every day." He sighs. "I thought it'd help. It'd help her realize there are good people in the world. That she can trust people, besides me. And it took her a long time to do that, besides."

Gale leans back in his chair. "What does she need the notepad, then, if she has you?"

It comes out a little bitter. More bitter than he meant. Peeta must ignore it, because he's unfazed.

"There was a time you told me, during the war, where you said the way Katniss would choose between us would come down to who she'd need to survive."

"Exactly," Gale says, not missing a beat. "You're the best thing that happened to her. She's only surviving _because_ of you. Still is from what I've seen. What does the world matter?"

Peeta has this fire in his eyes, this look that, maybe, helped evolve from Katniss. Maybe he's always had it. "It matters because she needs it. She's surviving, but she's not_ living_, and I can't stand it." His hands shake, and he shakes the table with one of his fists. "I can't stand to see her wasting away from me. Some days, I can't take care of her because of nightmares that I have - that twist my thoughts. I wake up and think she's a ghost, but she's not. She's real, but sometimes, I don't think she is, and she takes care of me – but how do I take care of her when I can't see what's real or not? How do I take away the sadness that she feels, when I can't bring back what caused it?"

It hurts, the way he talks. He's desperate for a cure – he sounds like she has a disease, and it's driving him to a path he shouldn't walk. Maybe she does. Gale's seen it, the way she moves and stands when she's alone – when she thinks she's alone. It's fractured, a broken walk and stance. Gale puts his elbows on the table and steels his stare against Peeta.

"She loves you. Isn't that real enough? You love her. _Trust_ me. She's _happy."_

"But it's not – "

"The thing about mourning, Peeta, is that it's different for everyone. It can take a really long time. It might last a lifetime. There's nothing you can do to change that."

"I know," he whispers, his hands gripping wildly at the roots of his blonde hair. "But I want to try."

Gale grits his teeth. Peeta is one persistent bastard, and it's the worst kind because it's love that's causing it. People in love are crazy things. Gale should know.

"Let her see how the world's coming together, Gale," Peeta says, looking up from the scratches in the table. "Let her see how things can change."

And suddenly, Gale knows why he's so mad. Why his anger is building and building, his heart twitching. The wall he placed around himself right before stepping into the bakery is crumbling in the face of his weakest, most pathetic pressure point.

"It's a bad idea," he comes out with again. "I don't know how she'll be received over there. I'd have to send in a request to Paylor, get you and her a room, find something for you both to do – "

"Just her," Peeta says. "Not me."

His anger just keeps building. "Why?"

"Because if I'm there, it'll bend her perception of everything."

"Maybe she'll need that," Gale breathes out. "Does she know about any of this?"

"No, but – "

"Can't you let her make one decision for herself?" Gale says, the calm tone pressured out with heat behind it, like coals. "You act like she's a doll, but she's fucking damaged goods. You both are, and nothing can heal that. So take it like it is."

He can see Peeta's jaw clench, almost can hear his teeth scrape together.

"I think you and I both know she'll never go on her own."

"I think she will."

Gale laughs. "Whatever you say."

"Come back at lunch," Peeta says. "Then we'll both see. And if she says yes, you're calling Paylor and telling her to get a room for her."

Gale has been ignoring the tension ever since the topic went underway. Now, he can barely see straight. Peeta's acting all tough and macho, now, like his words are kicks and threats, like they can intimidate and strike fear. It might work for others, but Gale holds his own. He's too used to it.

"_I'll_ do what _I_ want."

"Then I don't think calling will be a problem."

Gale stands, the chair whipping backward, and punches the clenched muscle in Peeta's cheek. Peeta's head flings to the side, a smile splitting into the side of his cheek.

"Guess we finally both agree on something, don't we?" Peeta asks, before he chuckles.

And Gale can't believe he gave in. His cover is blown, now. Peeta has seen straight through him from the start, his eyes gleaming over to Gale knowingly. The punch and the anger was all it took.

Gale can't stand it. He turns and stalks out the door.

* * *

His legs carry him to the forest. He's deaf, not able to hear if he's creating a mess of the foliage or if he's as silent as a killer.

"He wants you to go with me," he says, standing right above her once he reaches her alcove. She doesn't move an inch, as closed and compacted as she could ever be, with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She doesn't speak.

"Did you know?" he asks. When she remains quiet, he leans over and grabs her shoulders. "Did you?"

She flinches, but unlike the first time, he can't feel the pattering heat seeping into his palms, or the uncomfortable feeling of being too close.

"No."

He lets her go, standing and sighing. "He's going to ask you. Or tell you. Don't let him force you."

She flicks her eyes up to him. He's blocking the sun, making her skin darker and the whites of her eyes more prominent.

"He doesn't force me."

"Don't lie."

She stands up in one quick motion, braid whipping out. "I'm not."

He stares at her, but he can't tell if it's all an act. "You don't have to please him."

He sees her throat swell when she swallows. "You hardly know him. _Us._"

"So what?" he says. "I know enough. Just do what _you_ want."

She looks past his shoulder. "You didn't think I was?"

Maybe he's only having a hard time over the whole ordeal. He doesn't want her to go – he _can't_ want her to go.

"Hope you make the right decision," he shrugs, hiding his hands in his pockets, and turning around to leave.

He can't get out of his head how small she is, standing there, how maybe he can help - how maybe...

But he can't think these things.

* * *

Lunch comes too fast. His mom takes the day off – because it's his last day, or because she feels the same as yesterday, he isn't sure. He doesn't ask, because she doesn't ask him.

He knows he's wound up. There's too much energy to use to try to hide that, and she's never been one to miss the obvious things. Instead, she keeps him company in the empty bowl of the house, the television off and collecting dust, the colors of the walls blending into one soft yellow.

"I have to go to the bakery soon," he starts.

She brings the laundry basket around with her, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "The bakery?"

"Yeah. I said I would. Remember?"

She smiles. "I thought you were lying."

"I thought I was, too."

"Then why're you going?" She picks out a shirt – one of Posy's – with pinks and yellows of flowers, and starts folding.

"I've seen everyone else. I guess I feel like I should see him as well."

She places the shirt on the coffee table, slowing her movements. "Who's…everyone else?"

Suddenly, he feels caught. He tries shrugging it off. "You guys. Katniss. I haven't talked to Peeta one on one, yet."

She hums at him. "Where were you yesterday?"

"Walking around."

"The forest?"

"Yeah."

She grabs one of Vick's shirts, a bright blue one. "Haymitch came by the house while you were gone."

"Haymitch?"

"Yes. He told me he didn't need me to clean his house anymore."

Gale clenches the fabric of his worn down jeans. "He did?"

"I should've…" she laughs. "He never really needed me."

She's wearing her wedding ring today. Gale notices it glint when she creases the shirt.

"Yes, he did. Still does."

She looks at him. "Don't console me, Gale," she says.

He stands up. "I'll be back soon."

"Gale –"

"Do you think dad would be angry at him? I do. I'll see you later, mom."

He walks to the door and slowly steps out, his mom suffering in a deep, constrictive silence.

* * *

He has to go to the bakery first. It's in the opposite direction of Haymitch's house, and he wishes it wasn't. He wanted to have cooled down before meeting up with Peeta. But he's angrier than before. The ire is carved deep. His knife is still attached to him inside his belt, a cold contrast to his dark heartbeats, and he'll have to contain himself from using it.

He ignores the sign on the door, labeled with a closed sign _out to lunch, _though Gale isn't sure why anybody would believe it. He takes a breath as he walks in, feeling the light, ashy residue in the air coat his lungs, before inhaling the dough and yeast from earlier. The ash helps block it out.

They're sitting at a bench on the wall, Peeta already talking to her, but stopping as Gale enters.

Peeta nods at him, "Good timing."

"I can't stay long," Gale answers.

Katniss is avoiding all their eyes, staring at the table, then to Peeta's face, biting her lip. Gale can't remember the last time she's looked so uncertain so openly.

"So, what's the verdict?" Gale asks, still standing far from them in the middle of the room, feet twitching to run away.

Katniss looks at Peeta. He looks back at her. She opens her mouth, but it's devastatingly silent. Gale wants to snap. The air's so doughy and thick.

"I'll…go," she says. Gale can't tell if it's resigned or accepting, or neither.

"What'd you tell her, Peeta?"

Peeta looks over to Gale, giving him a sharp glare. "I explained my side."

Gale's hand turns into a fist. "Then I have a chance to relate my side?"

He takes a stool and drags it to their bench, not listening to whatever Peeta's saying. Surprisingly, it's Katniss who speaks.

"I don't care what you say. I'm going."

"Don't be_ rash."_

"Can't you listen to me? You blame Peeta for forcing me around, but _you're_ not even listening to me."

Instead of placing the stool in front of the bench, he pushes it forcefully off to the side, knocking over a table in a shattering clatter.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he says, low and harsh. "I'm not Peeta. I'm not going to _baby_ you."

Neither of them seem surprised by his outburst.

"I wasn't expecting you to."

He places his palms on the table, staring at her.

"You gonna need your notepad of good deeds?"

She keeps a stone face up against him, though her lips purse into a line.

"Gale, that's enough – "

He gives Peeta the worst sneer he can manage. "You're the fool sending her with me. Regret it, yet?"

He almost thinks Peeta will grow a few balls and punch him. But he's the better man, and he remains in his seat, giving him a passive look.

"Would you believe me if I said I trusted you?"

It's the worst thing Peeta could ever say. Gale falters, pushing away from the table, making it shake on its metal legs.

He turns and heads for the door, and his back won't stop tensing from their stares as they watch him leave.

"When are you going to call Paylor?" Peeta calls, before Gale can reach the exit.

"After I kill someone," Gale growls, slamming the door shut.

* * *

None of his agitation dissipates by the time he reaches Haymitch's door. He knocks on it, loud resounding _bang bang bangs_ until Haymitch yanks it open, cursing and cursing and imitating all the words on Gale's mind.

"What the_ fuck i_s going – "

Gale throws a punch at his cheek, then his eye, then his nose. Something crunches. A rush passes through Gale's mind and chest, a thing he hasn't felt in a while.

Haymitch falls back into his house, his hand up against his face, trying to hold all the fragments together.

"You stupid bastard," Gale snarls, kicking the door shut behind him. The house, in the day that he left it, is in a ramshackle state. Already torn to pieces, with the table toppled over and chairs with the cushions scattered around. "How could you do that?"

Haymitch lets out a grievous moan before he has it in him to laugh. He laughs and laughs. He might be drunk, as he stumbles to his back on the floor.

"I only took your _advice_," he guffaws, and laughs some more.

"Shut up," Gale shouts, and he goes to kick his side. "Shut up. Shut _up_."

Haymitch grunts, spits, then continues to cackle. And Gale can't do anything about it.

"You didn't deserve her, anyway," he whispers, kicking him one more time, and he makes a quick getaway out the door.

He keeps feeling like he's running away, and he can't stop seeing red. He can't stop feeling like he failed.

* * *

He's almost chopped down a tree. He uses his knife on a skinny fir, a spacious triangle transforming into a large scar in its side. The wood chips hit his face, leave small trails of dirt and dust on him. His shirt couldn't stand the strain, with the seam on his shoulder ripping, showing his stitches. They've started to bleed, but he doesn't pay mind to these things.

It's just him and the tree, now, the blade turning dull while the wood turns sharp. Splinters find their way under his fingernails and his palms. There's something freeing about it – all the poignant twinges and stings, like miniature needles digging into him. They're like claws, and he doesn't want them to let go.

He's almost halfway through the tree before his knife breaks. It chipped a while back, its dullness spanned the length, and the force on it cracked it on its width.

But he's desperate. He runs to his old stash, finding a few arrows. He cracks the tips off one, and he plunges the point into the lines of the tree. Its color starts to look like flesh after staring at it a minute too long. And he sees red, sees it falling out of the splinters, sees it on his hands and underneath his nails, though it could be his own.

He uses one more arrow before the tree falls forward. It's so tiny that he can catch it in a hand, but he steps away and watches it crush some grass and brush. They crinkle and break into small flutters, the death of autumn already snatching them gone.

He's got nothing in him left after that. He sinks down and sits by the top half of the tree.

His chest heaves, and his sweat coats the back of his shirt. "I'm sorry," he whispers, to the broken tree and the forest, and to all the things that he tried to do, but couldn't.

He hears a bird above him in the adjacent tree, tweeting something lovely and utterly melancholy. The song contains minor notes, the heart string notes, the ones those lost souls on the streets sing. It's despicable. The nausea Gale has been feeling all day crawls back up his throat, coaxing his stomach to heave and free it from the cage.

He needs to, but he doesn't want to. He _doesn't want to._ But the bird keeps playing Gale's tune, and his hands aren't enough to keep it out of his body, and he _doesn't want to._

Gale throws up.

The mess is complete.

He can't clean it.

* * *

He gets home, somehow. He ignores his mom and her stares. He stumbles into the shower, and he stays inside until he hears Vick and Posy trampling through the front door.

He lets the water steam out his back, turning it red and raw and clouding his mind with the stinging heat until it fades into numbing cold. It was a certain task having to wipe the water off, the left side of his body sluggish and sore. It takes him fifteen minutes getting dressed, partly because he doesn't want to, but mostly of what he has to do when he leaves his room.

Vick and Posy are both in their respective rooms when he goes to the kitchen, but Hazelle promptly cuffs his ear when he gets there.

"You _never_ disrespect me like that."

Her voice would have been venomous if he hadn't been so tightly wound.

"Like what?" he bites out, shoving past her.

"I asked you a question when you walked in here, what, two hours ago? And you ignored me. And you just left eariler - "

"I'm not ignoring you now," he says, stopping in front of the phone. It's never been used – he can tell. The plastic is still shiny, dust settled along the hand grooves. Phones hadn't come with the house, so he had fixed the phone jack and placed certain numbers already in the contact list, but they never used it, so what was the point of it? Gale promptly takes the phone off its hold and starts to dial.

Hazelle places her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

"Tell you after," he sighs, leaning back on the wall.

The rings crackle, then they shift into an open line. "President Paylor's office. Who is calling?"

Not many people have access to Paylor's number. It was a preemptive security measure and still continues to be one. Usually, the secretary answers with her usual bored drone that's deceptively nonchalant. But Gale had been at the end of her most bitter tones before, and therefore, new her by first name basis.

"Hi, Brenda, it's Gale."

"Ohh, Hawthorne. Why are _you_ calling? Thought you were off in District 12 dilly dallying."

Gale rubs his forehead. "Just let me talk to Paylor, Brenda."

She tuts. "A little touchy, aren't we?" Then the line clicks on a different connection.

"Paylor speaking."

"It's Gale."

"You aren't due back until tomorrow." There is little that gives Paylor pause these days. Gale can hear the suspicion lingering behind her words at his voice – in all the years he's gone to District 12, he's never called her.

"It's not about my vacation time, ma'am. It's about…Katniss."

"Katniss?" Paylor asks, the suspicion wearing down into surprise. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing," he says quickly. "She's doing fine. Only, she wants to…visit."

"Visit?"

"More like take a tour."

There's a beat of silence before Paylor loses her false sense of authority. They've been working together so closely for the past few years, Paylor had gradually lost the tense, rigid front she had in the presence of everyone else besides her squad.

"What are you suggesting, Gale? I let her parade around the Capitol? There are still hostilities toward us. Do you expect them to play nice with the Mockingjay?"

If one thing was true of Gale's experience with people, it was that time did _not_ heal all wounds. Sometimes, time would make them fester and grow, turning some people all bitter and worse off than before. Time wasn't the universal cure, and quite frankly, Gale was too tired and pissed off at them to give any more leniency.

He sighs. "I know they won't, Paylor. That's the thing. But the barracks are protected and I was hoping– "

"The barracks? They can be broken into very easily. Plus, the ground isn't very stable."

Gale holds back a grunt of frustration. "Then are there any free rooms available in the worker's apartments?"

"You know the answer to that, Gale," she says.

And he did. The worker's apartments were just that. He'd been given full title to his room on his arrival to the Capitol, then promoted to a larger room after he became part of the District Commerce Chamber. Though he didn't know what he'd use the bigger space for, besides the exact same routine of sleeping and eating, it was nice having such a comfortable place to head back to after a long day.

The thoughts that swirl in his mind, however, make him no less sick than he was earlier in the forest.

"Why bring her in the first place?" Paylor continues. "There's no room here, and it's far from the greatest idea you've had."

"It's not my idea. It's Peeta's. And for the record, I tried to talk him out of it."

"And so Katniss just decided she wanted to go, too?"

It's like Paylor had the same sequence of thoughts he did. He laughs bitterly. "I guess so."

"Well, Gale," she says after a while. "If you want to go through with this and act the bodyguard, then the best suggestion I have for you is to set aside your extra bedroom and let her stay with you. The best I can do is set up a tighter perimeter of security, but I can't stop the world spinning for one person."

The idea voiced was even worse than it was in his mind.

The irony of the whole thing doesn't elude him.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

He can almost hear her shrug.

"It's your funeral, Hawthorne. If that's what it comes down to, I'm sure I can find someone to replace you."

Gale hangs up, glaring at the phone, before he realizes his mother is still staring at him.

She gives him a look, her earlier anger erased into exasperation and surprise. "What in the world is going on?"

Gale tries scrounging up a small smile for her, but ultimately fails. "I don't really know."

* * *

a/n;  
anonymous review replies:

anon: you've done it again with me not know what to say. :D i'm so glad you liked the scenes in that chapter! i felt really iffy about them, especially the Haymitch one - i'm not a very good Haymitch writer. the Katniss/Gale scene was a close second. so thank you so much! and what you said about Katniss...i'm pretty sure you almost just predicted what happened in this chapter, huh? ;)

shellbell0944: i might go back and tweak that scene - but i wanted to show that Haymitch is sobering up, though he doesn't want to because he doesn't feel like he should. he'll buy drinks, but he won't ever drink them, unless he finds a way to make himself drink it, which is what he did a little with Gale, and more so after he fired Hazelle. but Hazelle is a heavy force on him now, though he doesn't want to admit it since he doesn't want to make any attachments to anyone. does that make more sense? :| thanks for pointing that out, though, hopefully i'll find it in myself to make it clearer. :) and yes, i'm definitely a Gale fan, haha. not that i don't like Peeta, but Gale was just shoved off somewhere, and i was upset about it. i'm going to try to resurrect their friendship, first, but a Gale/Katniss fic is what this is ultimately supposed to turn into. do you like Peeta or Gale more? don't worry, i don't judge. ;) thanks again for your awesome review!


	7. moving in

a/n; REVIEWERS. LOVE. LOTS. CUPCAKES? sorry, didn't make any.

Treasure maps, fallen trees  
Operator please  
Call me back when it's time  
Stolen friends and disease  
Operator please  
Patch me back to my mind - the black keys, little black submarines

chapter seven - moving in

* * *

She meets him at the pick-up site at exactly six o'clock in the morning. She has a furry jacket on, a bag slung over one shoulder while she has a luggage suitcase dragging at her side. He isn't sure if he's relieved she packed light, or if he should be wary that she packed enough to fit in a luggage suitcase. He hasn't asked her how long she's meaning to stay, mostly because he's not sure how he'll react to whatever she says. He's already been through enough inner turmoil over this to be considered healthy, and he wishes more than once that she didn't arrive in time so that the jet could have left her behind.

It surprises him to see that Peeta isn't there to see her off. She's standing all by herself in the dark, misty morning, looking stoic and uncomfortable with clenched hands.

He comes up and stands next to her, empty-handed, wearing a jacket his mom bought him. She always buys him something when he leaves, usually clothes or a pair of boots. Last time, she bought him mittens, mostly on Posy's encouragement, and he tried to find ways to wear them even though he'd never worn mittens before.

"Where's Peeta?" he asks.

"We told you he wasn't coming," she answers back, cutting a glare at him.

He shrugs, "I thought he'd at least walk you."

"You think a lot of things, don't you?"

He looks down at her with a frown, before turning his glance toward the sky. He can make out the lights of the jet closing in on the landing.

"Sorry if I thought he'd want to see you off."

She keeps silent until the jet arrives. She hesitates before picking up her luggage.

"Last chance to change your mind," he says, mostly for a last ditch attempt.

This seems to take her hesitation away as she grabs her stuff more forcefully. She holds her head high when she looks at him, as if daring him to keep her from getting on the jet.

"No."

He sighs at her. "Fine." Then he gestures in front of him. "Ladies first."

She still watches him warily as she passes in front of him, glancing down toward his arms as if she expects them to reach out and throw her back. She gives him a wide berth as she walks through the gate, and he holds up his hands in a mock-gesture. The hatch of the plane opens up for them by the pilot, and he watches her get on.

He takes a chance to look behind him, making out the shadowy silhouettes of District 12 in the darkened light of the morning. He can still feel the warmth from the hugs from Hazelle, Posy, and Rory, and the distant but clinging hug from Vick. His shirt is still trying to dry from Posy's tears.

One more year, he thinks, and the feeling tastes just as bitter as the first. But it'll leave eventually, as it always does. He hopes it still will, even with following Katniss up the steps and sitting across from her, her eyes looking anywhere but him.

They don't talk much on the way there. Gale's not sure what to say, besides. He's not sure if he can strike up any conversation with her face looking as it does - pensive and uncertain. He wants to tell her she'll be fine - that she may even like it in the new Capitol. But she's all wrapped up in herself, arms crossed and guarded, and he's almost certain she'll ignore him or won't care what he says. Instead, he decides to ask her how long she's planning to stay.

"I don't know."

"You don't _know_?"

She glares out the window, biting her cheek. "No. Is that some kind of problem?"

_Yes_, he wants to say. He expected her to at least know what she was going to do. Did she not think any of this through at all? Did her and Peeta even talk about it? Surely he'd only want her gone for a few days. He couldn't fathom that he'd want his girlfriend, wife, significant other, whatever to be absent from his home, especially in a place that might not like her very much.

"You're going to have to decide soon, you know," he says. "I have a job, I have a life. You can't expect me to drop everything just because you're there."

"I never said that," she bites out, finally looking at him. "Do what you have to. That's what I'm doing."

He scowls. "Don't you understand? Some people still hate you. I have to be there to look after you – "

"No, you don't," she says stubbornly. "I can take care of myself just fine."

He scoffs, laughing a little incredulously. "You could never take care of yourself, remember? There was always somebody else there, protecting you or making sure you couldn't hurt yourself."

He watches her glare at him, hands clenching on her legs. "That's not completely true. Things change. Just because I couldn't take care of myself when I was a teenager doesn't mean I can't take care of myself now."

He highly doubts it. She hasn't shown him anything that would make him think otherwise.

She was strong once, sure. A few times at the most, but she was always the damsel, probably still is the damsel from what he can see, whether she knew it or knows it or just ignores it. She doesn't have spirit, not anymore. She doesn't hold any esteem. She's some sort of ragged skeleton, and it's amazing to imagine that she was the domino that caused Snow's downfall. At least, for now.

He wonders, sometimes, what he fell in love with all those years ago. It certainly isn't this woman, looking like a starved, feral cat, backed in a corner with nothing to eat, trying to defend herself from...him.

"We'll see," he says, and they wait in silence until they arrive.

They head down to Paylor's office when they arrive. It's mostly for Gale than for Katniss. He always checks in when he arrives, to get updates from what he missed and if there're any updates over the squad. But it's also in the hope that Paylor will be merciful and give Katniss some other place to stay. With as many people that move around, there's surely a place open. Or at the very least, some girl she can live with.

"Katniss," she greets, once they take their seats. Katniss gives a small smile in greeting.

"Hi, Miss…Paylor."

"Just Paylor," she says. "It's been a long time. I'm glad to see you're still in good health."

"Yes," Katniss says back, clearly not sure how to react. "Thank you. You too."

Paylor nods, and turns to Gale, raising her brow and falling right into business. "Hawthorne. You're aware of our current situation with the Capitol group 24A, correct?" She cuts her eyes over to Katniss for a second. "Or have you forgotten with the time off I allotted you?"

Gale rolls his eyes, trying to give Paylor a charming smirk, but partly failing. "I remember."

"Good. I expected no less," she says without smiling, though Gale knows she's teasing. It took him a while to get used to her humor, as dry and subtle as it is.

"Now," she continues. "We had a plan to intercept them at the intersection between building twelve and thirteen, on Thursday, but our plan was discovered from some inside source. Apparently, we have a bug somewhere in the system."

Gale runs a hand through his hair. "Not surprising, I guess."

"Agreed," she says, shaking her head. "We've put off our infiltration route for now, because they know about our squad. They'll be prepared. We want to catch them as off-guard as we can. So while you were gone, I gave all the members the task of trying to find the bug and capturing them." She clears her throat. "We obviously can't dispatch them right away. They'll probably have some type of information that we don't already, since they've gotten so close to us."

"Right," Gale says, frowning. "Any leads so far?"

"Not anything significant, no," she says. "But there has been a report from an officer about rumors around Eddie's. Something about a person spotted after hours in the communications building. The guards tried to keep it quiet, but word gets around fast."

"Everyone has access to the communications building," Gale retorts, starting to get angry. "Why haven't you stationed more security around it? And what has Heavensbee done?"

Paylor narrows her eyes slightly. "You know security is thin, these days. We have just enough people to secure the area. Volunteers are scarce, and the ones we do let volunteer are given thorough background checks. We're doing the best we can. Heavensbee is busy enough as it is."

Gale bites the inside of his cheek. It_ is_ hard to find people to work. After the government's expansion, and even the time before it, the majority of the Districts didn't put much time and effort into educating themselves over the newness of the government. Many were still fearful, but stood to the side. Others had been much more vocal, striving to make things better for their children. But between the two, many only liked to watch it progress. Favor to actually work near the Capitol of people from different Districts was pitifully low. They'd been doing fine for a long time, but as it expanded, the numbers were thinning while friction was growing. Some Districts started to resist the government encroaching on their territories. After the taste of pure freedom while the government was in its baby stages, the Districts started to get used to it – it was always nice not to have a higher power telling them what to do. They were trying to integrate the best they could, with police and a justice system, but if they didn't have the cooperation of the country, then it would all be for naught. Judges had to be found, attorneys, consultants…it was time consuming. And rebuilding took time.

"Communications, then. Any speculation why someone would be there, or what they'd be looking for?"

Paylor shrugs. "Old files, maybe. News reports. They might even be trying to figure out how to rewire the broadcasting, though the area's been searched. Nothing was found."

Strange, but not incredibly so. They'd caught some people trying to worm their way onto TV, to take some kind of ridiculous stand and let the whole country see, to get supporters and to ignite some rebellion, no matter how small scale. It would be nothing but a nuisance, but the roar would take a while to tamper down.

Gale sighs. "I'll look into it."

"Good," Paylor says, clasping her hands on the desk in front of her. She turns to Katniss. "Sorry about all that Katniss. Business doesn't wait." Then she smiles a little – or tries to. Gale doesn't think he's ever seen a real smile from Paylor, yet. He's been trying to lure one out of her, but there are too many responsibilities she's taken on. It's wearing her ragged, and there's only so much he can do.

"I'm sure Gale has explained your room arrangements?" she asks, in a way that immediately makes Gale's stomach go cold. He gives her a glare and she notices, giving him a look in retaliation.

"No…" Katniss says, looking over to Gale. "Not yet."

"Oh, I was certain he would have given a brief explanation by now," Paylor says, drawing out her words a bit. "Gale?"

He's being childish, but he doesn't see how it's _his_ fault. He hesitates for a few seconds, before gritting out, "You'll have to stay with me."

Katniss's face completely flat lines, and her face drains of all color.

"What?"

Gale grimaces. She spins around to him.

"You said you'd get me a room."

"Yeah, well it didn't work out that way."

Her cheeks start to flush, and her eyes flicker with anger. "Are you – "

"I'm afraid there aren't any rooms, Katniss. There _are_ others you could room with. However, because of the security threats running rampant, I think the safest bet would be to stay with Gale."

"But – "

"I trust him with my life," Paylor interrupts. "I can safely say that you can trust him with yours."

Katniss's face strongly suggests that she doesn't and probably never will.

"With all due respect, Paylor," Katniss starts. "I believe I'd be much more comfortable in quarters that weren't so close to him."

Paylor's face is strained, her lips twisting into a strange kind of almost-smile.

"And I think you aren't in a position to complain. Gale is a very busy man, and you should be grateful that he's accommodating you, since you wanted him to. And he's the best protection that you can have here. I'm sure Peeta would be upset if he knew I didn't let you be secure at all times."

Gale can see the muscles in Katniss's jaw moving wildly, and her eyes staring down at her hands in her lap.

"I appreciate your concern about me, but I can protect myself. Peeta's opinion about this is out of the question – "

Gale almost rolls his eyes.

"And what would he say if you went back to 12 in a body bag?" Paylor says. "Please don't be selfish, Katniss. I have the authority to send you back home whenever I want. So don't make it harder than it is."

Katniss knows she lost – by the look in her face, she was still torn, and Gale can understand why. It's a tough situation, sure, but he can't feel that bad for her when she put herself in the situation in the first place.

Or, should he say, what Peeta put her into, he thinks.

Either way, Paylor put up good points. Protection is the key thing. And he knew that to begin with. He would put his neck out there – because he should. If not for the sake of Katniss, then for Prim. Prim wanted her sister to live just as much as Gale had, watching the games together, going through the insanity of all of it. Prim can live through people, and through Katniss and through himself.

And it doesn't matter what Gale feels for her now. He's not sure himself, and hasn't been for a long time. He's a little fearful of what he does feel, deep down. He thinks, maybe, if she doesn't forgive him after all of this, then maybe it isn't ever meant to be in the first place. But it'll be a great time to try.

Gale felt the flush of the resolution, much quicker than Katniss. She's still fuming, with her fingers ripping through a loose thread on her jeans.

"Fine," she spits out, finally. "Fine, I'll live with him."

"I'm glad you're starting to be logical, Mockingjay," Paylor says again, in that infuriating passive-aggressive tone. It's close to mocking, and close to sincere, all at the same time.

Gale tries to hide a smirk, but fails when he sees all the minute hatred in Katniss's face.

She stands up from her seat, grabs her luggage and shifts the bag on her shoulder, and marches through the door. Paylor only shakes her head.

"Still a petulant teenager, I see," she says.

"Seems like it, doesn't it?" Gale replies lightly.

"Oh, please, you can be the same way," she says, waving her hand. "Though, to a lesser degree. There's a reason I can hardly stand you."

Gale stops at the doorway, then glances over to her at the statement. He smiles at her, saying, "For a politician, you're a terrible liar,_ Jules_."

She gives him a deadly glare as he laughs, and he turns down the hallway to track Katniss down.

She doesn't talk to him all the way to his apartment. He doesn't try to start conversation, because he knows she'll either ignore him or say annoying insults or jabs. Her tongue can still be as vicious as it used to be, when she wants it to be. He's pretty sure he won't be on the end of the dull edge anytime soon.

They pass different barracks and buildings that house the government cabinets. They aren't close to the sights of the town from this area, and all there is are gray buildings and pavement, and the dying grass of late autumn. It's not the prettiest area, but he doesn't think Katniss cares that much. Her eyes are glassy and faraway.

"Home sweet home," he says, as they walk up the stairs to his apartment. He pulls out the keys and unlocks the door, and when he starts to walk inside, he gets pushed into the side wall with arms and lips.

"Gale," sighs a woman, and Gale knows that it can only be Reeva – she's nice and warm, and she uses the same tone she always does when she wants _something_ from him. And as good as it sounds, he has to regrettably push her away as he reaches for the light switch.

"Reeva," he says back, anticipating the onslaught that's about to occur as the light comes on. "You know, I think maybe we should – "

"Bedroom?" she grins, and he can't believe he forgot how pretty she was. All the drab gray he's been seeing really skewed his memory of her. "Just what I was thinking."

He hates how whispery and ready her tone is. He bites down hard on his tongue. "No, I mean, we're going to have to – "

That's when she sees Katniss, standing in the doorway looking awkward and uncomfortable. Her hands still on his chest before she takes them away quickly, trying to hide her shock. She doesn't move very far away from him as she musters a confused smile.

"Oh – oh, hi!" she says, a little too exuberantly. "You're – Katniss? The Mockingjay? Wow, I didn't think I'd _ever_ meet_ you_."

Katniss obviously doesn't know how to react to this change of events. She glances down at the hand Reeva set out for her to take, then she hesitantly grasps it as she greets her. "Yeah…hi."

"Katniss," Gale intervenes, before the situation overtakes him. "This is Reeva. Reeva, you already know this is Katniss."

"Nice to meet you," Katniss says, more readily this time. Reeva grins.

"This is a…pleasant surprise," Reeva says after they let go hands. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm –"

"She's –"

They speak at the same time. Gale smiles nervously.

"She's visiting. I was just going to show her around the area."

"Oh," Reeva drawls, noticing his hesitation. "I see. Are you staying for a while?" she says, gesturing to Katniss's luggage.

Katniss seems a little defeated at the question. "Looks that way, I think."

"Well this will be nice. I've been meaning to find some girlfriends to hang out with since I've been working here. The ones I have here are usually too busy. We should definitely go out sometime before you leave."

"Oh," Katniss says, sounding partly surprised. She blinks a few times, as if she didn't know what 'going out' meant. Gale knows the feeling. He still remembers his first time at a bar. "Sure," she says meekly.

Then silence.

"I guess we should start that tour now," Gale says, rubbing his neck. "I can call you when I get back."

Reeva, though a little let down, looks better than he thought she would. After their parting last time, he wasn't sure if she still liked him at all. She didn't tell him goodbye, didn't show up at his office the day before he left. Five days must have made her miss him.

"Alright" she says, kissing his cheek. She walks out the door then waves at Katniss. "Later, Mockingjay."

The door closes and then they're left where they were standing. Katniss shifts a little, then asks, "Where should I put this?"

Gale shows her to the extra room beside his, furnished with a bed and dresser with a mirror. It's all plain with a blue pastel comforter on the bed and a generic lamp and ceiling fan. It had been furnished when he moved in, and with no use for it, he left it alone. It's a little musty, and there's a thin film of dust settled on the wooden surfaces, but all in all, it'd get the job done.

"The closet is in that door, though I don't think you'll really need it," Gale says, as she puts her luggage on the bed. She starts to slip the bag off her shoulder, looking around. "Just set up how you want. The bathroom," he says, pointing to the left, "is right through there. We, uh, have to share. It's the only bathroom here."

"Okay," she says slowly.

"I take showers in the mornings, after I get back from our workouts. You can take one whenever you need to. I don't have a blow dryer, but you'll just braid your hair, right? I have some girly shampoo underneath the sink, too, if you'd prefer that. And body wash. And there's – "

"Okay," she says a little louder. It stops him, and he feels a little foolish. It's funny how he feels – so out of his comfort zone. It makes him slightly anxious. Nobody's been to his apartment besides Reeva, and on certain occasions, members from the squad.

"Right. Yeah." He backs out of the room. "Let me know when you're ready to go walk around."

She watches him leave, and looks down at her meager belongings. She starts to feel the loneliness creep up on her first, then the mad urge to run away. She doesn't know why she's here, really. Peeta made great points to her, made her believe in it so much that she recognized the need to have it, to come here and see the real world.

He was so desperate – she remembers it, his look, his bursting desire right underneath his skin. And she knew that something was wrong with her. She doesn't see color anymore, not really – she sees the burst of the sunrise, every once in a while. She eats because she has to, and as delicious as Peeta makes it, and how he's taught her to make it, it never tastes as good as she wants to remember it, how it was before. It's there – the old memory senses. She remembers a lot of things that were more vibrant than they used to be. But the memories have dulled, as they do year after year, and it all suits her just fine, still, because what does it matter to remember when you don't care about them?

She pulls out her notebook from her bag, flipping to the first page. It contains Peeta's handwriting, a small little inscription to her.

_You can use this for whatever you want, but I hope that you write down the beautiful things that you see. The things that make you want to believe. _

_I love you._

_-Peeta_

She runs he fingers over the dried ink, and flips into the pages. One has Buttercup's muddy footprint, an accident when she left the book open on her desk. One has three small entries.

_I saw a family eating at Greasy Sae's today. They seemed happy._

_A little boy told his mother he loved her while they were walking to the Hob._

_I found one flower growing in the middle of the front yard. It's autumn_.

Three things – three stupid things. She knows the context of what she's writing, but reading over them doesn't make what she writes any fuller. The things are supposed to be beautiful, she knows it well enough. She only wrote them down because she had to find something, anything to write down to make sure she could. But looking at them – they don't mean a thing to her.

She closes it quickly. She knew all along she wasn't ready – it had been a long time, but the feelings didn't change, and she couldn't suddenly change them just because she had to. She knew – knows that.

"I'm sorry, Peeta," she says, grasping the rings of the notebook. He tries so hard, all the time, always sticking by her side and trying to make her see the ordinary things, the life that's brilliantly ordinary that are all around her, loving her unconditionally even though it seems like she doesn't reciprocate. She wishes desperately that she could will something to change her, for his sake. He does everything for her and she can't do a simple thing like see beauty, like understand what she's writing. Simple things. They're such simple, regular things and_ she can't do it._

She hears Gale's footsteps sometime later, stopping in the doorway. She's certain she's been staring off at the walls, sitting on the bed. "Katniss?"

Even _he's_ walking around eggshells around her, even though he said that he wouldn't. He's full of large emotions and big talk, hollow apologies and muffled excuses. He's a liar, and a killer, and she wants him to know that she hates him and always _will_ hate him, because it's easy. It's easy for her to do. She's felt anger and hate and the dullness of melancholy for so long, she doesn't think she can change the feeling, toward Gale or the other evils of the world. But for Peeta – for Peeta maybe she could…

But she feels sick when she looks at him. All those five days, when she first saw him to the last day she thought she would ever see him again. She tried back then, patching him up with the poorly sewn up stitches, even though she secretly liked inflicting him with that arrow. She tried – and she thinks she only did that because he was leaving soon. He wouldn't be there anymore, and maybe if she patched him up, it'd be something to remember and write down. It would be a good deed on her part, it would be something, and it'd make her let go of all of it. Or maybe it could be for Peeta, if she couldn't come up with any other idea of why she did it or if it didn't make her feel any better.

But now… it's so hard to hold it all in, all the feelings of the past years, when he's there, when he's around, always a breath away and she's stuck here, stuck here until she changes, and what if she can't? Stuck here – just stuck here. She's trapped.

"I'm not ready," she hears herself say. "I'm not ready. I'm not ready – I'll never be ready!" She screams it at him, not caring that she's gotten up from the bed and starts pushing him out the door.

He's watching her like she's a crazed animal, and he lets her push him. He seems to be too confused or shocked to do anything else. But he comes to grips before she pushes him down the hallway, and he grabs her wrists. She whips her arms around, trying to free them while he tries to keep them from manically punching him in the face.

"Katniss – calm down, it's okay."

"Let go of me!" she seethes. "Let go of me, you selfish bastard! I hate you," she shouts, and she can't stop herself. "I hate you! Do you know what you did to me? Do you _know? _Do you _understand?"_

She gets pushed into the wall, and they've stayed inside the hallway. Her head smashes against it from the struggle.

"I'm not a real person anymore. Even Peeta thinks something's wrong with me. But I'll never be ready!"

"Katniss, please, you need to take deep breaths and calm down or you'll – "

"Stop it! Just – fucking – stop it!"

She gets in a punch to his cheek before he locks her in a hold. He manages to wrap her arms behind her, and her head is forced on his chest.

She keeps on wriggling, though it slows down, and she tries to head butt his sternum.

She hears him breathe out once she hits him on his chest, though he makes no move to stop her. It makes his hands loosen on her wrist and she takes the chance to rip them off her. She hurriedly turns, running out of his reach and to her new room, slamming the door on the hallway and on his hopes.

* * *

Katniss doesn't come out of her room for a long time. She knows it's a long time because the sun starts to set the next time she looks up.

She can't remember if she fell asleep or stared at the ceiling all day. Probably both. Her mind's a hazy, foggy mess, but it helps her from thinking too much. She has a feeling if she starts to think deeply about anything, she'll up and leave and find some stray transportation to take her home.

When she walks around the apartment, Gale isn't there. She thinks she remembers hearing a door slam moments after she locked herself up in her room, but the memory of the sound is hazy at best, too.

She walks around into the living room. It's a spacious place, with a dark brown leather couch and three other chairs, a large television, one that's larger than any she's seen in 12. There's a coffee table and a rug and a few side tables as well. All of the furniture matches together, and it looks...expensive.

It leads into the kitchen, and an off-set dining table. The dining table seats only four, but it's compact and small. It's set up beside a window overlooking the city a few miles in the distance.

The kitchen is a good size. It isn't overly large, but it can work for one or two people to cook. There are upper and lower cabinets, a dishwasher, a sink underneath another window, and an attractive amount of counter tops.

She unconsciously starts to compare it to her house, noticing the differences in layout and style. The kitchen has gray, white-washed walls, making the counter tops and floors look lightly blue. It's very different from the living room – it has warm colors, with the walls being a warm yellow and the couch and chairs being deep browns. Though smaller than a house, the place is very well put together. There isn't much clutter, only a few dishes in the sink. Everything is in its rightful place, but nothing seems very used at all. It makes the place feel less and less like a home, and she feels that the hardest. Her house is like a home, she's at least able to pick that out, especially standing in the middle of Gale's living room.

The front door opens minutes later, and she hears Gale throw his keys into the small bowl on the desk beside the entrance. His feet stop when he sees her.

"I thought you'd have left by now," he says, anger and slight sarcasm lacing all of the words.

She doesn't tell him anything, only glares in his direction and wraps her arms around her middle.

Gale sighs, rubbing at his eyes, and it's not the first time she's noticed how tired he looks.

"I'm going to make dinner," he says shortly, then heads into the kitchen, shedding his coat on the way and depositing it on the couch.

She walks over and takes a tentative seat on the couch, avoiding his jacket with as much distance as she could place between them. The couch is cold and firm, easily pushing up at her instead of letting her sink into the stuffing. She tries to burrow into it and punch it down, folding her legs up to her chest, but to no avail.

"I'm gonna make spaghetti, I guess," he says behind her, walking through the doorway to the living room. "Is that fine with you?"

"What do you care?" she bites out, making patterns on the leather.

She can't see is face, but she can almost sense his eyes glaring at her from his hammering footsteps.

After a few minutes of hearing the sink filling up the pot and the noodles falling into the water, Gale comes out of the kitchen again, grabbing his discarded jacket and placing it in the closet before sitting down on a chair. He leisurely places his feet on the ottoman in front of him, leaning backward into the cushions and sighing, closing his eyes and crossing his arms in front of him.

She curls in on herself more, wishing she had stayed in her room instead of deciding to sit there. She starts to contemplate the very thought of leaving him before he starts to talk.

"Sorry I left all day," he states, eyes still closed. "I had business. A meeting I forgot about. Stuff like that."

She wants to tell him she doesn't care where he went, that what he does is his own business and not hers, but she has the feeling he said that just to say it. Maybe to clear the air, though she's pretty sure it's still as foggy as before.

So she fidgets and says, "Shouldn't you be watching the food?"

He opens his eyes slightly, directing them in front of him toward the opposite wall. "It takes time for water to boil. You knew that, at least, didn't you?"

She opens her mouth to retort, but he continues before she can.

"Oh, wait, you're not a cook. That's what Peeta does."

"I can cook," she says indignantly.

"I kind of doubt that."

Something flares inside of her at the statement. "I cooked dinner for your family. And for you."

He purses his lips. "It wasn't that great, to be honest."

"You should appreciate the fact that we even invited you in the first place!"

She watches him rub his chin. "I think it was Peeta who invited us, too."

Her hands clench into fists, and she gives up taking out her anger on her braid, moving to a stray pillow instead.

"Forget it," she says through grit teeth. "I tried to be nice, once, for everybody's sake, and you can't even dredge up any decency to be thankful."

He finally turns his eyes to her, still partially hidden by his eyelids. She forces herself not to look away.

"I never said I wasn't thankful."

"Whatever, Gale."

"Really," he says, leaning forward off the back of the chair. "You're so quick to assume things that aren't true without asking first."

Katniss heavily disagrees with the statement – especially concerning him. He's given her enough evidence to let her assume things, all kinds of things, about him.

"What does it matter?" she says, voice rising slowly. "You've never cared about my assumptions before."

He breathes out a laugh. "There you go again. Assuming."

"Oh," she says. "So you want me to believe that you actually _care_ what I think about you now?" she glares. "Please."

His face contorts into a frown, but he runs his fingers through his hair, then at his face, and the frown's gone. "Yeah, well," he says, giving the ghost of a smile, "I didn't think that'd be so hard to believe." Then he quickly stands and makes his way to the kitchen.

Katniss doesn't like what he's doing – she knows it's a trap. The way he acts like a kicked dog, just to affect her, to make her feel sorry for him, to pity him. She can see it in his face – the way it moves, the way he tries to conceal all the emotions that flicker across his face. She remembers it. And sure, it worked in the past, but it definitely won't work now. How does he possibly think it could?

When the food is done, he leaves an extra plate by the pot for her to serve herself. He takes a seat at the dining table, but she ignores him and eats in her room.

She wakes up at around six-thirty in the morning, only to hear the dead silence of the apartment. She almost forgets where she is, and it takes her a minute to remember that nothing was a nightmare.

She groans, swinging her arm out recklessly and slamming it against her bedside desk. She hears a clatter of a plate, realizing it was the one she ate off of last night.

Grudgingly, she has to admit that the spaghetti wasn't too bad - though she ate it just to eat something.

She hugs her arm to herself, feeling the dull throb of a growing bruise, then pushes the covers away and stumbles into the bathroom.

She flicks on the switch, squinting around before she finds the toothbrush she left near the sink. Getting her eyes to adjust, she notices that the door connecting Gale's room to the bathroom is wide open, though it was closed the night before. Brushing her teeth, she peeks into the room, the lamp on the bedside table on and illuminating an empty bed and clothes crumpled around the floor.

His room doesn't look anything like the rest of the house. The rest of the house is near immaculate. His room is messy, with his comforter twisted and wrinkled, drawers opened and showing off the top layer of his clothes – not cluttered and disgusting, but it definitely isn't organized.

After brushing, she hesitantly walks into the living room, but finds the whole place empty. She tries to fall back asleep on her bed, but it doesn't come. She goes to the kitchen to see if he has any cereal or eggs, and even though he does, she's not hungry and she doesn't want to touch anything. The apartment is too pristine and sharp to make her feel comfortable going through his things.

She ends up back on the same cushion on the couch, folding her legs up on the leather, feeling its coldness bite through her sweatpants. She rests her head on the armrest but hits the remote to the tv. She studies it for a while, then decides that watching the news wouldn't be so bad. It'll kill the quiet pervading the room.

It takes him a few hours before he walks through the door, and the smell of sweat and outdoors hits her nose like a hurricane right when he arrives.

"You're up," he states, seeing her. "And watching television?"

"Yeah," she says, "Is that surprising?"

He smiles easily, swatting some of his bangs from his forehead. "Nah, I just never watch it myself. Guess mostly because_ I _know what's going on outside."

He doesn't let the words sound provoking. In fact, they're very light in the way he says them, which makes her all the more suspicious.

"Oh," she ends up saying.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he says, walking past her to the hallway leading to their room. "Afterward, we can eat breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she says in a hurried protest.

"You might be later," he shrugs, disappearing through the doorway.

He comes out fifteen minutes later in a gray shirt that has a few stray dark spots where it got wet from the water, with his hair still damp and spiking up in a few places, like he towel dried it off once and left it alone.

"I've got cereal," he says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorway. "And eggs. I'm pretty sure there's bacon in the fridge. Or toast."

"I'm not hungry," she says stubbornly, pointedly staring at the dull screen of the meteorologist forecasting the weather.

"Sure you are," he says, walking over and flicking a button in the side of the tv. It switches off.

Katniss cuts her eyes at him. "No, I'm not."

"Well, I am," he says. "And it's Sunday. I've got nothing better to do than sit back and eat and hang out with you."

He knows that bugs her. She's certain of it. "You can do that somewhere else," she says. "Go hang out with your girlfriend."

"I did that yesterday," he says, making a show of thinking. Then he snaps his fingers. "Oh, I know. What if," he says, taking a few steps towards her. "I took you to this breakfast cafe downtown? It's nice, and quiet, and -"

"No," she almost shouts, voice a terrified shriek.

"C'mon," he says, his face unyielding. "It's not that far away. And walking there is bound to make you hungry. And less irritable."

She curls a lip. "No."

"Why not?" he says, looking down at her with a challenging spark in his eyes. "You too scared of facing other people?"

She furrows her brows. "Of _course_ not. I just – "

"I don't believe you."

She cuts her eyes at him. "You should."

"Based on what?" he says, now looming over her. "Unlike you, I need evidence before I truly assume anything."

And it's back to the same, stupid conversation last night. He isn't going to let whatever it was go, and she can feel the pressure of her blood rising and rising. He's stubborn and she's stubborn and it makes her so mad.

She throws up her hands. "I thought I told you yesterday. I'm not —"

"Ready," Gale finishes shortly. "I know. But you can't tell me you expected me to just let you sit here and do nothing."

Her eyes flash at him, but a pleading voice in her mind screams at her. _Peeta would want you to go. He'd want you to try._

And she knows she should – but she feels fear. Not a nervous, anxious fear. It's a refined fear, starting at her spine and slicing through into her stomach. And she hates that she can't control it. It's all up to herself to push it down and go outside and try.

She turns her head away to the opposite side of the room, toward a spot near the front door. She thinks that what scares her most is that she has room to fail over and over without ever finding what she needs.

Then again, what else can she do? It just didn't seem so daunting listening to Peeta's hope and encouragement.

Gale, on the other hand, only seems like he can goad and pressure until someone relents. Maybe this is what he does for a living, up at his office. She won't be surprised if that's true.

"Fine," she says slowly. "I'll go. Happy?"

He leans back and smiles. "More hungry than happy, but yeah, as long as you'll go."

She avoids his gaze, despondently walking out of the room to change.

* * *

He leads them down a winding sidewalk that passes right by a newly built street. The tar is still shining in a black glaze, showing orange from the morning. A few cars drive by, and they look new, too. Their paint shimmers under the sun, and the designs are a little different from the ones she remembers. They look more streamlined, more technical, smoother lines running over the top and back as if they were given lot of thought before being produced.

They don't pass by many buildings – they're few and far between. But they pass a lot of trees and vegetation, and they turn down the path into what seems like a thin forest. It must look enthralling in the summer. The lateness of autumn has the grass yellowing and the lane filling with dry, cracking leaves. But the trees that surround them still have many leaves, rich and dark red in color. Some are still ripe in oranges and yellows, but the ones that fall are dried and brown.

Once they make their way out of it, the sidewalk turns from brick to cobblestone, and the place is much more open. There are many more buildings, and instead of gray wash, they're painted all different colors. Some are pale, some are green and blue, some are purple. Others are made from brick with big, clear windows with curtains tapering off the edges. There are benches placed around, some in the middle of a lane by a light post while others are underneath awnings by the sides of buildings. She guesses at where the restaurants are, with patios containing small tables, and tables for two, people drinking coffee, and some couples sharing a small plate of coffee cake.

"Welcome to downtown Capitol," Gale says, as they walk past the window of an antique shop. "The inner city is still a ways off, but I like it here better."

There are more children running around then she thought there would be. Many are holding hands with their mothers, still too small to know what's going on around them. Other children are with their friends, holding ice cream cones in their hands and carrying a bag of goodies. So many things that used to be unheard of, things she would have to save up a year for, in the palms of laughing children.

"They squared away a large piece of land for a park," Gale says as they round over a curve. He points to their right, and sure enough, yards away are slides and swing sets, and a type of obstacle course with a plastic rock wall and metal bars making up a semi-circle, with the kids dangling from it as they climb.

There's a larger field behind it, and older kids are playing some kind of game with a ball, kicking it as it rolls to them as hard as they can, and running to a white square in the grass while others run back in to the starting place. When someone makes it to the innermost square, the whole side cheers and jumps on the kid that ran in, shouting and screaming.

"Who decided to keep the land?" she asks.

"It was ultimately the board's decision – Paylor and her close associates. But the idea was taken from a girl from District 4. She was eleven. But what kid has ever had a place to run around and play before, right?"

"Yeah," she trails. "Right."

"They're trying to make some more plots in other Districts, and hopefully the Districts will allow it to pass. Don't see why they wouldn't, though."

Still looking over to the field, she doesn't notice him stop. She hits the back of his arm, before jumping out of the way.

"Oh," she says. "I didn't know you stopped."

He looks over at her, and once he does, he starts to laugh. "Maybe one of these days, I'll take you to the playground so you can climb the monkey bars."

She frowns at him. "Monkey bars?"

His smile fades a little. "See? You don't even know what a playground is, yet." She only frowns at him deeper, and he shrugs and says, "Well, this is it. That café I was talking about."

The name is called Café Rendezvous, imprinted with cursive script on the glass of the front door. It's one of those shops with miniature tables on the outside by the windows to the inside, small parasols protecting them from the oncoming rays of the sun.

They walk in, and Katniss is immediately assaulted by all the smells – there's pastries and cinnamon rolls, chocolates, omelets and pancakes sizzling on the grill somewhere behind the counter in the back of the shop. There's a variety of people there, though the place is big enough to not look cluttered or packed. Few people look up, but most keep enjoying their meal and don't notice them come in.

"Hey, Gale!" says the hostess, obviously excited at his presence. "I haven't seen you in a while. How've you been?"

"Same as always," he answers with a charming smile. "Just got back from visiting the family."

"Oh, how nice. I'll bet they missed you," she says, then notices Katniss behind him. "Is she one of your relatives?"

_Not that again_, Katniss thinks, annoyed. No one really ever let that cousin thing go, over the years.

Gale only gives a short laugh. "Not at all, she's – "

"Oh, I can't believe I didn't notice!" the girl almost shouts, an exuberant smile on her face. "You're Katniss Everdeen!" She reaches out to shake her hand with energetic fervor. Katniss's whole body almost shakes at the effort. "I never thought I'd get the chance to tell you how wonderful I think you are, what with everything you went through and what you did. You're an absolute_ icon_ in my family."

Katniss feels heat on her cheeks, and she wills it away. She hasn't blushed since…well, it feels like forever now.

"I – a lot of people helped. It wasn't nearly all me."

"But you were the face!" the girl says. "Nobody will forget you. Nobody_ can_ forget you."

Katniss tries to smile at her, but she never got used to that – used to the thought that she would be around forever, even after she died and left the world. She never really cared about it. But this girl did. How many others did? How many others, even after so many years, still thought of her as the face of a revolution that wasn't even hers to begin with? So many things had been out of her hands back then. Not many knew all the strings being pulled in the background, and they probably never would, but...

Katniss starts to sense the people looking up at them, now, overhearing the conversation. The small titters of conversation weren't enough to drown out Nina. She feels the uncomfortable prickles of attention and hunches her shoulders.

"Oh, gosh, look at me getting away with myself," the girl says, seemingly flustered. "Here, I'll show you your seats."

"It's alright, Nina," Gale says as they follow her to a table. "You're one of the first people to see her since she arrived."

This seems to perk up Nina from her embarrassment. "You were thinking about me, weren't you Gale?" she says, winking good-naturedly.

"Of course I was. When don't I?"

She tucks a hair behind her ear as they take their seats. "I knew I was always on your mind," she says, though she's turning a cherry red. She gives them two menus, then tells them their waitress will be there shortly.

"See you later, Gale," she says in a farewell. "You too, Katniss. It was so great meeting you! I hope you enjoy your breakfast."

Once she's out of earshot, Gale smiles at her. "You handled yourself pretty well."

Katniss has been busying herself with the menu, ignoring them until telling Nina goodbye. "I didn't know there were people who still…well, liked me."

"They do," Gale says, still looking at her and leaving his menu alone. "A lot of people still translate your face to hope. But that means a lot of people hate you, too."

Katniss glances at a few of the patrons, and some avert their gazes. "I thought people would have at least forgotten."

Gale gives her a look. "Trust me. No one has forgotten."

She glares at a random entrée, not liking the statement. People…died because of her. Thousands of people. Who in their right mind would want to remember a person like her?

"You might have to face them," Gale says after a while, examining her face. "While you're here."

She flips the pages in the menu, but she hasn't read a single thing. "I _know_ that." She's prepared for the hate of people, not their exaltation, like Nina's.

It threw her for a loop, and she still isn't sure how she feels about it.

"Good," he says.

A waitress comes up a few minutes later, batting her lashes enough to make Katniss feel sick. Were all the girls like this when Gale was around? She glances at Gale while he orders, and she squints, trying to see past her own vision and see something of the waitress's. But it fails miserably, and she ends up rolling her eyes.

"And for you?" the girl asks, almost reluctantly turning toward her. Katniss feels immediately put on the spot. She has no idea what she wants.

"Um…"

The girl taps her pen against her pad loudly.

"I'll have…er…"

"She'll have what I'm having," Gale smoothly cuts in, handing the waitress the menus.

She smiles brilliantly. "I'll put the order in, and I'll bring your drinks right out."

Katniss doesn't even know what Gale ordered, much less her drink. She bites the inside of her cheek and pointedly turns her head to stare out the window. She tries to remain distracted by all the people walking by, and how different each one looks compared to back in 12. There are a lot of blondes that pass, mostly dirty blondes with blue eyes. She sees some people with brown hair, brown eyes, and she finds those easier to look to. But those are few and far between, and it only helps to make her feel more out of place.

"This place is a lot more peaceful than the inner city," Gale says, following her gaze through the window. "More laidback, less busy. More kids here, too. And right over there," he says, pointing in the opposite direction that she's facing, "is probably the best sweet shop in all of Panem." He smiles. "Not that I've been to many, but I promise you can't be disappointed."

She doesn't follow his gaze, and instead keeps her stare on a little girl eating a vanilla ice cream cone. She must have just came from the shop Gale was pointing to. She gets hit by a boy running past, and her elbow jerks, the cone flying and the ice cream soiling her dress, down the line of the seams.

The girl turns, cheeks already full of surprised and angry tears. Her eyes dart, looking for the boy that hit her, mouth turned down in disappointment. She doesn't see him after a few moments of staring behind her desperately, eyes falling back down to her ruined treat. She hesitates when she reaches for it, bringing her hand back up to her side. Then she turns to start walking away, and her eyes catch on Katniss for a moment.

She has glittering blue eyes, her unshed tears making them shine. Her blonde curls fall down around her shoulders in waves, glancing down almost to her hip. There's a pretty bow pinned to the back of her head, holding some of her hair away from her face, and a frilly dress ending at her knees.

Katniss chokes and looks down to the table quickly, before she can see anything else.

Her mind blurs with thousands of thoughts. Prim never got to eat ice cream, or chocolate, or anything that she deserved to have. She didn't have any new dresses to wear, or bows to flaunt, or shoes to protect her feet from the crumbled gravel of the streets.

"I hate sweets," she whispers disdainfully to the table.

Gale stares at her for a while. "But you've never tried – "

"What does it matter?" she says sternly. "I hate them. A different shop won't make any difference."

Gale shifts, glancing out the window to find what she saw, what made her look as if she'd seen a ghost.

All he sees is the back of a little blonde head, a dress chasing the back of her legs as she runs down the cobblestones of the street.

He rubs at his chin and scowls. He guesses he couldn't really protect her from all of the Prims roaming around here. It was inevitable that she'd see a little girl that looked so much and twisted so much like Prim might. Just the glance of one – well – he'd been there before. All those girls that reminded him of Prim, and the occasional one that still does, can still be maddening and horrifying. They can make him sweat with just a blink of an eye, can make him want to chase them, just to see where they would go.

He's chased a few of them before. He garners a glance at Katniss, and almost has an urge to tell her about them, but her eyes look blank and distracted. She's a million miles away, now, he knows. Whatever he'd say would probably make her angry, or more challenging than she'd been, or maybe she wouldn't even hear what he'd say.

Either way, he's relieved when the drinks arrive, then the food. He hurriedly stuffs his mouth so he doesn't have to decide whether or not to say anything.

He watches her become startled at the smell hitting her face. She stares down to the plate, her eyes furrowing at the food.

"Pancakes?" she asks, looking at them with caution.

He shrugs. "Can't go wrong with pancakes, right?"

The way she's looking at them meant that maybe he _did_ go wrong with pancakes. Her look is passive at best, and her lips scrunched as if the sight of them is unappealing and unattractive.

"I'm not hungry" she says.

He's got a feeling that if he doesn't force her to eat anything, then she wouldn't put in the energy to do it herself. He sighs.

"Just take a few bites."

"I don't want to."

Gale refrains from stabbing his fork in them and force feeding them to her himself. He rubs a hand over his face.

"You need to eat."

"I'll eat later," she says stubbornly, "when I'm hungry."

He pulverizes his stack of pancakes impatiently, taking large bites.

"They're just pancakes," he grits out through the syrup and cake. "Just because you saw some Prim look-alike doesn't mean – "

He closes his mouth, fast, before he can say anything else. Her eyes are still on her food blankly, eyes a little wide, but her twitching mouth indicates that she'd heard him.

"Look," he says, backpedalling a bit. "I know it'll be hard to get used to, but there are a lot of people that look like her here – "

She places her hands over her ears. "Stop it," she hisses, glaring scathingly at the plate. "I don't want to talk to _you_ about this."

The statement stings, but he brushes it away. "Fine," he says, hard. "If you don't want to talk, then why don't you _eat_ some of your _damn pancakes_?"

He finishes his pancakes off viciously, and she takes the time to break up the stack into torn pieces. He doesn't see if she eats any of it, or if she only messed with her food to pass the time.

He ends up not caring. He'll make her eat later.

Maybe.

* * *

a/n; anonymous reviewers:

anon: trust me, i never get stories right unless there's a shit ton of foreshadowing. and even then i'm like, 'maybe they're trying to be so obvious so that they'll totally throw me off' so i've given up on guessing, haha. AH. BUT THANK YOU. i hope you loved this chapter just as much. but seriously, if you don't, you can be totally honest. it's hard to make me cry through reviews.

alex: FF, i woke up to go to school when i read your review on my phone and it made me dress fractionally better than i usually dress to go to school. and that's hard to do. thank you for making me feel like a pretty person that day. ;) hope you liked this chap!


	8. a different type of beauty

a/n; you are such lovely people. LOVE.

also, AP TESTS are happening right now, as are graduation parties and banquets and concerts and all that junk, and stress isn't cool. i'll post another chapter sometime this week, but after next Monday, i promise i'll be getting chapters out more regularly!

chapter eight - a different type of beauty

* * *

Surprisingly, she still follows him out of the café. Her eyes remain cast down as they walk down the sidewalk, but she looks up after a while once she almost runs into people or streetlamps.

He knows this place like the back of his hand – he used to come here so often on the weekends that he felt like the open streets became a second home. He usually walks aimlessly when he's by himself, finding the dead ends of alleys or trying to find another shop that opened up. Now, they're still walking down the restaurant aisle of streets. To their left will be the shops, down further will be the bars. It's too early for those, but he thinks he'll take her to one later, just to see what she'll do when she's inside one.

He leads her to the colorful buildings of the clothing shops. They're milling with people, coming and going, music fluttering through the opening and closing doors.

This part of downtown is always alive in the mornings – even on Sundays. There are sale signs beckoning toward them on the windows, mannequins strutting their fancy outfits, pedestals with shoes and purses.

He glances to her and notices that she's staring at all of it, eyes trailing after women that come out of shops with necklaces and makeup and fake nails.

He's not sure he's ever seen her up close with jewelry or makeup on – he's only seen that on TV. He doubts he'll ever see it again. She'd never been girly – he never imagined she'd even touch a dress in her lifetime before the Games.

Hell, he doesn't even think she wants kids. She sure didn't have any plans for it in the past - no husband, no anything. He hadn't either, but now…he thinks it's a possibility. He absently wonders if Peeta and Katniss have talked about it, if he had changed her mind about it. He had the persuasive ability, if he chose to use it. And as stubborn as Katniss was, if they were in love…maybe love would change her mind a little.

Maybe, if he's successful with this field trip of hers, she'll even consider it when she gets back home. It's a hopeful idea – he always thought Katniss would be a good mother. She'd be a fierce lover of her children. She'd protect them and care for them with all of her being. He can see it – the fire in her back in the day, resurfacing in the face of her own children. He can see it clearly.

He notices her move her arms around herself protectively. This place is a little chaotic, but the atmosphere's always been comfortable to him, almost welcoming in its business. He wonders if she feels that, too, or if the rows of people walking up and down the street make her uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he weaves through the people in a makeshift path, and they end up on the corner of the street.

"That was the shopping district, obviously," he says, gesturing to it. "Back down that street," he says pointing to the right, "is mostly bars and antique shops. "Back over there," he gestures up further, "is a bank and a post office and a few offices." He sighs a little. "And that's about it. It's not too big, but it's a nice place to walk around. Wanna go anywhere specific?"

She glances up and down the streets beside them. "…what about the inner city?"

He shakes his head, though he's a little encouraged by the slight interest in her voice. "Not 'til tomorrow. The building I work in is there. I'll take you with me."

He thinks she might want to protest, but she doesn't. Instead, she looks uncertain.

"What's it like?" she asks. "Over there?"

_Apartments, hospitals, offices, restaurants…things_, he thinks. It's boring, and it isn't as bright as downtown, but everything is cleaned up and _different_ from the last time she's seen it. Different in the layout and the living spaces - some of the architecture was kept, but all in all, it's like a new city.

He gives a noncommittal shrug instead of giving a description. "You'll see soon enough."

She frowns at the answer, but glances around instead. "Where do you usually go?"

The question surprises him. Usually, he'll either go to the office and work on a report, or work on a lead from resistance groups, or, if she wasn't busy working, he'd go to Reeva's and well, fuck around. It's always a great stress reliever when he feels stretched too thin during the week.

But walking around downtown would always be a gift – it's been a while since he's taken the time to stroll around during the day. Usually, he goes at night, when the bars are thrumming and his squad buddies have the night off.

He remembers going to bars in the narrow mindset of finding a girl to take to his apartment. But with Reeva, it's become a little restricting. He has too much integrity to go behind her back like that – and what they have…isn't what Reeva probably thinks they have. At least, it isn't for him, but she's his go-to girl, now. When he needs something to rub up against, to get distracted from his work – he'll seek her out. It's always a definite thing and easier to get, instead of fiddling around at a bar and going for the kill. Though, he's got to admit, he sometimes misses the chase.

And it's a little heartless thinking that way, he knows, but Reeva…she's a complicated thing. Hating him one day, then loving him the next. Wanting more one day, then wanting less. But she's always fire, and she always burns him, and he thinks that's why he likes being with her so much. Because he can_ feel_ her.

In his defense, he's never told her that he loves her, and she hasn't told him that, either.

But there's no way he's telling Katniss any of this.

"I usually go to the bar," he says, smiling wryly. "I don't think they're open right now, though."

"Right," she whispers, scoffing. They stand around for a few moments before Gale has an idea.

"C'mon," he says, turning back the way they came from. "I wanna show you something."

She stares at him guardedly before trailing after him.

* * *

"These," he says grandly, "are monkey bars."

Katniss stares at them critically, as if she's trying to figure out what they're for.

"Monkey bars…" she says, drawing the words out.

They're standing a few feet away, watching a handful of kids crawling through the dome maze. The metal bars wind in all different angles, skewed diagonal, horizontal, vertical, and leading to a myriad of open spaces and nothing else.

"What's it for?" she asks, watching a kid plummet through a few holes when he misses a bar.

"For fun," Gale says, looking at her contorted face with a smile.

She watches as the same kid barely misses hitting his forehead on a bar. She cringes.

"It looks dangerous," she says dubiously.

"It's not that bad," he laughs, eyes catching on to the same kid she's been staring. "Kids are just reckless. That one will learn eventually."

"Or not," she mumbles, seeing a girl help him up from the ground, only to see them both crash into the grass.

Gale nudges her a little, and she jumps away like he touched her with a pitchfork.

"What?" she asks defensively.

"Try it."

"What?"

Gale rolls his eyes and walks past her. "You know," he says, placing a hand on a bar. "Climb it. It's like a tree, just with a lot more limbs." He pulls himself up on a rung, pushing himself through a space between the bars. She hadn't noticed, but the dome is larger than she thought it was. Gale can surprisingly fit through the spaces, and before she knows it, he ignores the kids enough to become fully entrenched inside.

She raises a brow.

"Come on," he says lightly, resting his back against a web of bars. "It's fun for grown-ups, too."

She just stares at him.

"No."

"Katniss – "

"No," she says, adamantly. "No, thanks."

He falls back, his shoulders dropping in a large exhaled breath. He doesn't seem disappointed, though. He expected her to refuse.

There are kids milling about, all around him. Most look pointedly toward him, ignore him, or act like he doesn't exist. But he garners the curiosity of one girl, and he sees her making her way over. She drops, hanging from a bar with the back of her knees.

"Hey, mister," she says with a lisp. "What're you doin' in here?"

Gale smiles up at her. "Haven't your parents told you not to talk to strangers?"

She shrugs. "I'm old enough."

Gale shakes his head at her. If she was Posy, he'd scold her until she was raw. But he relents, because she reminds him of her, too.

"Trying to show my friend over there that it's okay to have fun," he points, making sure Katniss notices.

"Oh," she trails, eyes looking off in contemplation. "Does she not know how to have fun?" she asks tragically.

"Nope," Gale sighs, adding a tinge of dramatic flair, watching the little girl's eyes widen.

"What?" she shrieks.

"Hey!" Katniss calls out, grimacing. "I can have fun."

The girl looks over to her, but Gale whispers to her.

"She's in denial."

The girl, thankfully, is old enough to know what he means.

"Oh, no."

"Yeah."

He glances over to Katniss, smirking. She's glaring at him.

"She looks mad."

"Yeah, she's been mad for a long time."

"Why?" she asks, eyes inquisitively large.

Gale thinks about what he can say to let her understand.

"I guess…well, I did something stupid."

She cocks her head. "Like what?"

_Killed her sister_ isn't something he thinks he can tell her.

"Something really bad."

"So she doesn't like you?"

"Not very much," he tells her.

The girl bites her lip. "There's someone that doesn't like me very much, either."

Gale raises a brow at her. "You? Who could that be?"

The girl points somewhere below her. "I pushed this kid down the bars once, and he really hates me. His nose started bleeding."

Gale laughs. "Did you do it on purpose?"

The girl blushes a little. "Well, he was being really mean! I didn't mean to make him bleed."

"Don't worry," Gale says gently. "A bloody nose is easily forgivable."

The girl looks skeptical. "Really?"

"Yeah, sure," Gale says, leaning in closer to her conspiratorially. "What I did is much worse than a nose bleed. He'll come back to these bars soon enough, looking for you for some payback. Watch out, okay?"

The little girl grins. "Okay! Thanks, mister." Then someone calls her away, and she climbs up and over her legs, finding her way out with limber ease.

Gale glances out to Katniss, who's watching him with suspicious eyes. Once she notices him looking, she quickly turns to the grass, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

He makes his way out of the maze, and finds out that it's exceedingly easier to get in than it is to get out. Once he's got his head sticking out of the hole and to the open field, he grins over to Katniss, who's still standing a few feet above and away from him.

His look is a little boyish and sheepish, smiling like he's a little embarrassed. But it is a funny picture – she's never seen Gale so graceless before.

She's only really seen his skills hunting and…well, hunting.

Climbing out of monkey bars, however, is not one of his best talents.

He must see something on her face, because he says, "You can make fun of me if you want." He huffs irregularly, pushing his bulk through the space. "I don't know how I got in so easy earlier."

Katniss rolls her eyes slightly in annoyance. "Maybe those pancakes are weighing you down."

Gale jerks a final time, landing on his side on the ground. He looks up to her, and his face is mottled in surprise.

"Was that…a joke?"

She bristles at his tone, which is more incredulous and disbelieving than it should be.

"Of _course _it wasn't," she says sarcastically. "You said I could make fun of you."

Instead of getting mad, like she wanted him to, he only grins wider.

"Can I make fun of _you_?" he says.

She walks over to him, standing over him. He hasn't moved from his spot, lying on the ground.

"Don't you do that already?"

"I don't think so." He half-shrugs. "Not on purpose."

She breathes out of her nose and shifts backward, not really believing him.

She looks out to the field. "Is this all you were going to show me?"

He pushes himself up, brushing the grass from his shirt and jeans. "Uh," he scratches his head. "Yeah."

They're silent for a while, standing around each other and shifting occasionally.

"We can always go shopping, if you want…" he tries, knowing she'll turn down the idea.

She looks over her shoulder, back to the way that they came, and the thin forest catches her eye. She has this sudden, strange urge…

"Can we go back to the forest trail?" she asks. "The first place we walked through."

Gale's face is enlightened at the prospect. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

"Yeah," he says brightly. "Yeah, sure."

Once they arrive to the shelter of the trees, Katniss immediately feels the sense of heavy calm, and all her aggravating emotions flee. The forest, though small and thin, still cover her fully. There's peace here, even though the leaves are dying and crunch under her feet, it still might be pretty, in a way. That part of beauty – the trees and the grass and the dirt – of forests, is the closest link she can feel. It's what she needs for the journal, but when she thinks about going to try to write something, she can't think of what to put.

Forests. It's just a word, but how can it mean anything? Is she supposed to write_ I think forests and leaves are beautiful.?_

It just doesn't…sound right. It doesn't seem as if it would fit into that journal.

Is it even the right kind of beauty? She's been looking out for people for so long, what they do, and how she can find some kind of good in them. But never has she really thought about other things. She wrote down the flower growing in her yard a year ago, but it was a chance glance outside her window when she saw it. She wrote it down because she thought she had to. Because the journal was blank.

Standing in the middle of the alcove of the forest makes her want to remember it – to write it down to remember the feeling she feels. Maybe she could write a sentence or a note – _the forest at the Capitol_.

It's bizarre. The place she's hated the most, and now, maybe, she's found the first real beautiful thing that she could feel, a little.

Maybe that's why she always spent so long in the forest back at 12. It's been part of her for so long that maybe she couldn't realize the full potential of it – the serenity and the peacefulness – until she walked through this one.

She gets a large whiff of homesickness. It's only been a day, but she misses that forest fervently. She can see all the differences between this one and the one back home. It's a little shocking when the small things she notices become bigger and bigger. Bird nests that are missing, trails that don't exist, logs that don't hide any of her weapons, the cobblestone path cutting right through it like butter.

But she still likes it here.

She walks up to the bench, off of the path, and sits down. She smells the crunch of the leaves that the people have been stepping on, and the rich fragrance of the bark peeling off the trees. Some birds chirp over head, and she hears the buzzing of passing insects somewhere hidden in the branches.

"I like it here, too," Gale whispers beside her. She hasn't noticed him take a seat, but she opens her eyes to find him looking up at the dwindling number of leaves in the trees. The sun pokes through them, though the ones that remain are still defending the ground floor from the glistening rays.

She follows his gaze, then she closes her eyes and feels and listens.

They sit there for a long time. She's not sure how long – but the shadows change and the tempo of the birds slow. It's so restful here, and she almost dozes off when a shrilling beep startles her.

She jumps and looks at Gale, who curses and pulls a device from his jeans.

He flips it open. "Hello?" he says rubbing at his eyes. They look dazed with sleep.

She hears a tittering on the other end, and hears Gale sigh loudly. "You sure this can't wait 'til tomorrow, Jack? It's Sun – "

"Yeah, yeah," Jack replies. "I know it's your girl-time day, and I don't know why you answered your phone if you're having sex sessions, but I guess I caught you on your downtime – "

"Jack," Gale groans, turning to face away from Katniss. "I'm _not_ having sex, I'm – "

"Whatever, Gale. Anyway, I tracked a lead on group 24A, you know, the one that's supposed to be trying to sabotage communications?"

Gale wakes up a little more, noticing Katniss's curious stare.

_I wonder if…_ he thinks abruptly, before he rolls his eyes. Not like she hasn't _done it_ before.

At least…he's pretty sure…

"Really?" Gale says, breaking away from his thoughts. "From where? What'd you find?"

"Well, I went back to Eddie and talked to him – gave me the name of the officer who he overheard talking about the break-in. I confronted the officer about thirty minutes ago, and – "

"Who was the officer?" Gale interrupts.

"His name's Rodriguez. He was the only one working that night and get this – he was paid to let whoever it was in the data room. He was paid a lot. Whoever we're dealing with still has wealth left over from the war."

"How much was it?" Gale asks, curious.

"Er…an undisclosed amount. I haven't actually looked at all the bills yet. But the ones on top are pretty promising."

"Jack…"

"Look, it just happened! I'll call you back once I've got the number and everything. Just feels good to have a wad of cash in my pocket," he mumbles.

Gale wheezes out a laugh. "It's fine, Jack. Did you get any information on who it was that gave him the money?"

"Apparently, the only thing she told him was that her… _name_ was Calypso."

Gale narrows his eyes. "She?"

"Yep, that's what I said," Jack says knowingly. "I made sure Rodriguez was absolutely positive – but it makes sense that he'd let a girl in instead of a guy. Said she was blonde, had real leggy-legs, short skirt, ass as firm as a grapefruit…"

Gale blinks. "He said that?"

"Well, Rodriguez was pretty adamant about her looks. The picture in my head is completely detailed, though."

Gale shakes his head. "Right."

"But Calypso…she wouldn't give a code name like that away if she didn't have a reason, right? She was probably just lying, making up shit on the spot for that guy to play with himself later."

"Yeah…" Gale replies, running a hand through his hair. "She could have been wearing a wig, too. Was she wearing a mask?"

"Oh! Right, yeah, it was a white ski mask." He pauses. "Original, right?"

"Yeah, we've never run into that scenario before," Gale mutters sarcastically.

"She took some data tapes that were from some security cameras around downtown. You know, the ones posted around the buildings? Still, though. A hot chick sabotaging a communication center? Doesn't this sound a little bit like one of those movies with the hot rogue assassin, trying to seduce the lead character…which could be me, since, you know, I got this information by myself…"

Gale leans back on the bench. He decides to go along with Jack, for once. "Please. The lead character is me. I have a higher rank than you. Then again, her face could be hideous, and she was hiding it to keep her _mystique_."

"Man, you suck the fun out of everything. You already have Reeva – isn't that enough?"

"She's not nearly…" Gale starts, but is cut off.

"If you don't want her, I'm single you know," Jack emphasizes. "I don't know how you _don't_ fuck her every night. Damn."

Gale rolls his eyes. "She's, uh…"

"Complicated, yeah, I know. Whatever, man. I'd take complicated any day if I could do all the things you do to her."

"Anyway," Gale intervenes, leading the conversation away and clearing his throat. "Calypso…let's put it on record. Look up what it means, if we have anything that connects to her, and check in with Paylor and let her know."

"Was just gonna do that," Jack says. "Now, I'll let you get back to…stuff."

"Yeah, great. _Thanks,_ Jack." Then he hangs up, puffing his cheeks out in an exhale, and shoving his cell phone back into his jean pocket. He had hoped that the communications building scenario was just a misunderstanding – to keep things simple. The peace had been around for a longer while than it had ever been, but perhaps that was why another group started up. There's only so much time before entropy, he guesses, and hopefully that didn't mean it'd be worse this time around.

He immediately notices Katniss staring at him, a small, tiny smudge of interest peaking in her eyes.

It's almost disconcerting, after those few days with her trying her damnedest not to look at him straight in the eye, now staring at his face. It's not his eyes, not yet, but it's a little closer.

"That was…Jack," he says, because he feels like he has to explain. "He's one of my squad mates," he scratches his head. "He found something important, about that resistance group we found. It's, uh…" he glances at her and shakes his head. "It's just business."

Her stare lingers for longer than he'd like.

"About that group Paylor was talking about?" she asks.

"Yeah…" he says slowly. He's not sure if it'd be a good idea to strike up a conversation about possible rebellious groups. Besides, wasn't there anything else they could talk about?

He's pretty sure the last conversation, real conversation they had was about shooting and death.

He gives her a shrug, deciding. "It's not a big deal." He sighs and leans back to his previous position on the bench, the back of his head held up by the metal bar.

"It sounds like a big deal," she says, a hardness in her voice. It makes him blink his eyes open in surprise, glancing at her and seeing her looking up to the sky.

"You're not going to keep me in the dark, Gale. Not again."

Her voice is commanding, and he can't bring himself to argue with her. She has a point all on her own. They…he had kept her in the dark a few times, five years ago. He had thought he was being a good friend back then, seeing the ways that the information would harm her, make her go crazy. He hadn't wanted that, he didn't want to see her dwindle down to nothing. He wanted her to remain strong and brave and spirited.

Maybe he hadn't looked far enough into it. He had lost her trust – he likes to think it was gradual, but maybe he made bad decision after bad decision, shooting himself in the arm as he went along. He can look back on it now and recall the times that he could have taken a different route, but he thought he knew her well enough to know what to tell her and what not to tell her.

Now, though, he can't make himself regret the decisions he was so sure about when he was younger. Maybe they were brash and unfeeling, but it was war, and he was angry all the time. Everything seemed personal. It wasn't a place to become weak. Revenge was on his mind perpetually, like a parasite sucking on the veins in his heart. He let it get the best of him, _willingly._

But he was a kid.

_Did it matter?_

He glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. He made her hate him all on his own. Prim was the last notch on the relationship. It was the most unforgiving. He lost two of his best friends that day, and for what? Because he was stupid? Because all that was on his mind back then was war and fighting and making the world a little less bleak?

Instead of getting to keep the two he wanted to save, he lost them both. It was for them – his family and them, that's all that mattered. But was he too preoccupied with himself to fully realize that?

He had risked thousands of lives with questionable tactics – and he thought it was because he could understand the different actions people would take. The Nut; husbands were in there, families pleading for them not to die, but he knew it would make them blister in hatred and turmoil and grief if they collapsed it – it would open their eyes, make them see like_ he_ had seen.

Maybe it was brutal. But people do crazy things under crazy circumstances. Crazy things can change people's minds. But crazy things can also make people cling harder to the normal things, and it was a risk, but at the time he thought it was necessary.

A strategist. That's what he wanted to be. He scoffs. Maybe it was all about him, back then. Did he get so caught up in the scheme of things that he forgot what was really important to him?

He bites his tongue to quiet his thoughts. His argument continues in circles. There's no right answer anymore, of course. Everything he did runs in his mind like a marathon, but there's nothing he can do about what's dead and gone. He doesn't dwell. But sometimes, he needs the memories – to play across the ceiling over his bed at night, and to keep the dissatisfaction stewing in his stomach. He needs that feeling to keep him striving to ease it away. To keep fixing and to keep driving him. Without the anger, he's got no fuel to keep him busy.

Having Katniss here so close, with her stare as sharp as rocks, gives him something else to work on. She's not a project – not for him. What he's doing now isn't about him. It's for Katniss herself, and a lot for Prim, too. Maybe even, it's a little for Peeta, if he dares to let himself admit it. But he's going to make sure, make damn sure, that this isn't about him anymore.

Forgiveness is something he wants, more than anything. Just for the peace of mind, just for…something. Consolidation. Something concrete and real and close to what they used to have. And as attractive as that notion is, he can't let it get the best of him.

Because, he realizes, that's a dream. It's fake. It's a pretty picture he can think about to pass the time when he's tired of thinking about reality. Right here and now is what counts. What he wants doesn't matter. He'll tell her everything she wants to know.

"Okay," he murmurs into the quiet of the midday. "I'll tell you."

A breeze floats by, and he moves to shift and look at her directly. She doesn't look at his eyes, but she looks somewhere near his shoulder.

"Group 24A is a rebel group we found out about a few weeks ago," he says, giving up on catching her eye and letting the hazy inner anger float away. "They haven't done anything major, yet. The thing that tipped us off was suspicious activity around the manufacturing facilities at night. The recording on the security camera showed us someone blotting it out. Security's thin, so it wasn't noticed immediately. We're weak when it comes to patrols and police. I mean, after the Capitol's glory days, who wouldn't be a little uneasy about that?" Gale rubs the back of his neck. "So once we were able to see the tape, we checked out the facility. It didn't look like much was taken – just some metal appendages and scraps that weren't being used. At first we put it off as minor theft. The items weren't important enough to be worried over. Then it happened again and again. We didn't write them off that time. We took away patrols from other buildings and placed them at that facility, some of the squad went down to make sure they didn't miss anything. We wanted to catch them, but no one showed up that night. They haven't been caught stealing from them, since.

"Then thefts started happening at other places, simultaneously. One of the small markets in town had stolen liquids – like gasoline and orange juice. Batteries were stolen from storage. Light bulbs, tools, fertilizer, things that are cheap and hardly worth stealing. We figured that, with the inventory that they took from, they wanted to make some type of bomb – but we haven't found any secret underground areas or houses with anything dangerous set up. And besides, stealing those things brought them to attention. If they were smart, they would have known that would happen. So I don't think they wanted to be kept secret in the first place. I'm sure they wanted to make certain that we knew they were there."

"Why?" Katniss asks. "If they're going to start something, why make your security more aware of what's going on?"

"Thinking about it," Gale says, "I figured they wanted to start out small, first. Make us aware of their presence so we could expect something from them. To make us listen to what they want. They've been doing this for a while – it's never taken us this long to find a group before. And I think they're getting impatient. The unauthorized person in the communications building gave the officer a name, and took some data tapes with her." Gale shakes his head. "She wouldn't have done that without some kind of motive."

Katniss sits for a few minutes, looking to the ground in contemplation. "The name was on purpose?"

Gale rolls his left shoulder, tightening against the taut stitches. "I'd think so. But I guess we can't know for sure until we get better evidence."

She's silent for a second. "Aren't you worried?"

Gale watches a leaf descend from a nearby tree, wobbling on the air and touching his knee.

"About what?"

"The group," she says. "Aren't you afraid they'll ruin something? They could set up explosions…everything could crumble in seconds," she says, her voice fading into a fierce whisper. "What if they destroy half the city in a few minutes?"

Gale dismisses her with a flick of his wrist. "They won't."

"You don't know that."

"Sure, I don't," he says, "But I don't think they'd bomb a city without people knowing why. They want more than the authorities knowing who they are. They're patient. They've waited this long. They'll wait some more."

Katniss still stares at him, either at his neck or collarbone, he's not sure. But her eyes tell him she doesn't believe him. She's wary and concerned, and she looks as if she's biting the inside of her lip.

It reminds him of why he didn't want to tell her anything in the first place. But he'll get used to it. Instead, he gives her a pacifying smile, though she may or may not notice.

"You don't need to worry about it, Katniss," he says. "We'll find them before anything terrible happens. I promise."

He's so sure of himself. Katniss can hear it in his voice, clear as day. The tone isn't as compelling as Peeta's, and perhaps she's thrived off of Peeta's quick assurances too much to let anyone else's attempts affect her.

But she can tell he's trying. He can't quite hide the tensed arms or the withdrawn facial features when he looks at her or their surroundings, but the effort he's giving doesn't hide either.

She finds herself wanting to believe him, for the sake of all those kids' faces she saw, running around, screaming happiness and rampant pleasure. But she turns away so that she can fool herself into thinking that she doesn't.

She has to expect the worst now, being here with him.

* * *

a/n; anonymous review replies:

bookluver110: hahaha, i didn't like the fact that their friendship just dissolved, either. five-six years is a long time, and the friends i have, even the ones i haven't known that long - well, i'd never let them go. they mean too much. i'm very happy this story makes you feel better; i started writing it just for myself, then my sister, then was pushed into posting it, here. i'm glad i did! :)

Mrs obsession: it's gonna stay a little angsty for a while - it's what i write best, i think. but it will get better, i promise. i'm glad you're sticking with it, though. there are days when i just need a happy, smiley story. and i probably wouldn't read mine if that's what i needed, haha. and as for Katniss, that's true. i'm still going to put imagery and description in her point of view, though, because she still _sees_ things. it's not the fact that she doesn't see it as it is her not being able to appreciate the things around her. :)

anon: thanks for all your awesome compliments! i did try to put a lot of elements into that chapter, and knowing that Katniss's sudden POV change wasn't too jarring is great. :) haha, it doesn't seem like they'll get to bridging the distance, does it? ;)


	9. false feelings

a/n: this took so freakin' long for me to post. Sorry bout that.

'What I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. What I need is the dandelion in spring...and only Peeta can give me that.' - _Mockingjay_

"I have to remind myself that Gale's in 2 with a fancy job, probably kissing another pair of lips." - _Mockingjay_

chapter nine - false feelings

* * *

They get back to the apartment in the late afternoon.

"I'm not sure about you," Gale says, throwing his keys to the bowl on the desk by the door. "But it's almost dinner time, so…"

Katniss walks around to the living room before her stomach starts growling. Her hands move up and clutch at her stomach, and she glances toward Gale.

Gale smiles smugly, and he motions toward the kitchen. "Mine feels the same way," he says.

She doesn't think her cheeks redden, but her neck feels hot, and she glares down at her stomach. Gale waits expectantly for her to follow him, and she sighs, letting herself follow him.

Gale opens the fridge once she walks in, staying near the door.

"Since you don't like my choices of food…" he says behind the door. "I'll let you decide this time. What do you feel like? I have chicken and –"

"That's fine."

He peers over at her. "Will you eat it?"

"Yes, I'll eat it."

"I have steak, too."

"Chicken is fine."

Gale reaches into the fridge. "Alright. Cooked…?"

"Preferably."

Gale laughs, placing the frozen meat on the counter and bending to grab a pan from the cabinet.

"Never mind. I'll think of something," he says, going back to the fridge and grabbing something else.

Katniss slips out once he starts getting busy, going to her room. She sits on the bed and takes her journal out of her bag, rummaging around for a stray pen at the bottom of it. She opens up the journal to a random page, letting herself fall onto the pillows of her bed. She stares at it for a while, then takes a breath and puts the ballpoint to the crisp, white page. She's not sure why it's so hard to write. She turns it back to the page with the other three moments on it and places the pen right underneath the last one. It takes awhile until the pen doesn't resist against the paper.

She puts it off to the side of the bed once she finishes, staring at the ceiling and inhaling the scents seeping through her open door from the kitchen. She doesn't like to admit it, but her stomach shrivels at the smells in anticipation. She's too used to being full of food - it's mostly Peeta's fault, making sure she eats every meal, every day. This is the first time since the war that she hasn't eaten all three meals.

The doorbell rings a second later. Katniss hears Gale walking to it with his heavy boots, pausing, and opening the door.

"Reeva," she hears him say, his tone not concealing his surprise.

"Hey," she says. "I was going to call, but I just got out of the office and your apartment's on the way home…"

"Um," she hears Gale hesitate. "No, it's alright. I was…really busy today. I still have a few papers to finish before tomorrow, so – "

"And you're cooking dinner?" she says, and Katniss imagines her eyebrow raising. "When's the last time you cooked for yourself?"

Gale's silent for a few seconds. "I had to take a break from reading papers," he says smoothly. "I didn't feel like ordering in."

"Hm," she says. "Well, I have an idea for a kind of break."

Gale chuckles. "It's a little early."

"Gale, it's _Sunday_," she says, her voice turning persuasive.

Gale's quiet for a few seconds. "How about I finish dinner and a few more papers, and then I go to your place?"

"I can help you with your papers."

"You and I both know that's not true."

"I'm too distracting?"

"…a little."

"Hmm.."

Katniss finds herself in the hallway, slowly making her way to the doorway leading to the living room. She's not sure why – but she knows that with the way he's acting, his girlfriend doesn't know that she lives here. She gets to the opening and peaks slightly around the corner.

They made it to the middle of the living room, near the armrest of the couch. Reeva's slightly pushing up from her feet in her flats, her forearms resting on Gale's shoulders, mouth slightly open against his. He's got one hand tipping her chin slightly, fingers grazing her throat, and his other hand loosely on her hip.

Katniss hasn't thought about it in a long, long time. Has never wanted to think about it. It's not relevant anymore, but she wonders what Reeva feels – from his loose hands to his warm lips. If it's anything. She remembers not being able to know what she felt that one time, outside of the woods when he ensnared her face and kissed her. What she felt obligated to feel later, when she decided to love him.

Compared to that heat she felt from Peeta, she didn't think she felt anything. From the noises Reeva's making, though, Katniss guesses that_ she_ feels something.

Reeva's hands move up into Gale's hair, and Gale's hands flex tighter, the hand under her chin moving to comb through her auburn hair. Their slow kiss starts to quicken, become needier and more passionate and lustfully crazed.

Reeva's hand starts to crawl down Gale's shirt, to the button of his jeans, and Katniss hurriedly shifts back into the hallway, pressing her back to the wall. She exhales and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to forget about the scene that's happening feet away from her and turning to reach the sanctity of her room.

Her mind quickly wanders to Peeta's kisses. She thinks about how they're always slow and sweet. They can be passionate, but never rough or aggressive. They are always gentle and nice and there's always that slow burn that happens in the pit of her stomach. And she remembers how long it took her to feel that heat – to fall in love with him and to _know_ that she fell in love with him. His kisses aren't obligations, but things she needs to help anchor her.

Gale and Reeva's kiss is everything Peeta's kiss is not.

Then she hears Gale say, "Reeva, stop. I can't right now."

Katniss stops cold in the doorway to her room. She fingers the doorjamb absently.

"Gale," Reeva simpers.

"Later," he stresses. "I promise."

Gale and all his promises, Katniss thinks, wondering if he'll keep them.

"I need you," she continues, her voice edgy. "When has Paylor ever been on your ass to get things done?"

"Only because I usually get it done before she has to," he says. "I'll call you tonight, alright?"

Reeva finally gives in with a reluctant 'okay', and it's a few more minutes until Katniss hears the door open and close one more time. Then Gale sighs loudly, and his boots make their way back to the kitchen.

Katniss pushes herself fully into her room, closing the door quietly and falling onto her bed. She doesn't know why she's so surprised that Gale stopped. She doesn't know why she's…angry. She didn't think he would do that to his girlfriend just because she was there. She didn't think that he wouldn't tell his girlfriend that she was living in the apartment with him temporarily.

Either way, it shouldn't matter. They're his decisions. She doesn't care what he decides to do.

Gale knocks on her door twenty minutes later, telling her that the food is done.

"Hope you like it," he says casually. "It's just chicken and broccoli. But I thought simple would be better. I'm not the best cook."

Katniss serves herself like the night before, though she hesitates just slightly before foregoing the empty spot at the dining table and heading toward her room.

And later, she notices that she's waiting to hear him leave the apartment or listening for him to call Reeva before the night gets too late. But she falls asleep before she hears anything after the sound of the sink's running water in the bathroom.

Six-thirty comes fast the next morning. Katniss hates that she wakes up so early, but she can't seem to quit. After getting so used to Peeta's routine, it became hers, too, and while she liked it at home in District 12, she wishes she didn't have the same routine here. She wants it to remain in District 12 only.

But instead, she lies in her bed a while longer, sleep not forthcoming, and listens to the high-pitch of dark silence. She guesses Gale's gone again. The door to his bedroom is open from the bathroom, just like the day before. And she's trying to make up her own routine – taking a shower, brushing her teeth, then turning on the TV and watching the weather radar on the living room couch until he gets back from…whatever he does.

When he walks through the door this time, he's breathing hard and his shirt is clinging to him from all his sweat. Katniss stares at him as he brings up the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his face. The action gives her a glimpse of his stomach.

"Hey," he says breathlessly, going to the kitchen and showing back up with a towel in hand. "Forgot a towel today," he says, in answer to her confused look.

"What do you do in the mornings?" she asks, finally.

"Oh," he says, like he forgot to tell her. "The squad goes to workouts every other morning. From five-thirty to eight."

"Every _other_ morning?"

Gale slightly smiles. "I like to go every day. It clears my mind."

She watches him as he wipes himself off as best he can, then looks up to her. "Still wanna go to the inner city?"

She hesitates. "Yes," she says slowly.

Gale looks at her a while. Then he excuses himself to a shower, and Katniss goes to her room a few minutes later to change out of her sweatpants and into jeans.

When Gale shows up in the living room, he's wearing a plain white dress shirt and black pants. He looks…strange in formal clothing, and she looks down at her t-shirt and jeans and wonders if she should change clothes. Or maybe out of her jeans. She didn't really bring anything dressy.

He loosens his cuffs as he walks to grab a jacket from the entry closet.

"We're going to have to take a taxi," he says, putting his arms through his coat. "The ride's about twenty minutes if there's traffic. Usually it isn't so bad around nine o'clock."

Katniss glances at the clock above the TV, reading eight-fifty.

"It might be a little boring to you," he says, facing her. "I have to look over files, sign papers, and go to meetings sometimes." He shrugs. "But I'll give you a tour around the place."

Gale gets a car to stop for them without much problem. The car's paint is a sleek yellow on the outside, with a black stripe across the middle and curving into words signifying that it's a taxi. It's stuffy on the inside – all black leather with smoke coming from the driver's newly used cigarette, but the windows are crystal clear and refreshing. Katniss is more than used to the smell of smoke to let it bother her. Gale lounges back against the cushions of the seat comfortably and tells the man driving where he wants to go.

Katniss spends the drive staring out the window. Sometimes she notices the man glancing back at her though the stylishly oval rear-view mirror, but she decidedly ignores him and enjoys – or tries to enjoy – the view.

It's almost the same as she remembers it. The extravagant buildings remain – some rebuilt with familiar shapes, others completely new. There's a magnificent fountain in the middle, with a great lake surrounded by various streets.

Vibrant colors decorate the lanes closer in, colors that are hard to ignore, some people still with the same ridiculous fashion as years before.

She sees many buildings, crowded together. Gale points out the government buildings, the newly built apartments and hotels and the restaurants and shops. It's all in a roundabout design with each portion of the city having a designated section for each genre of shops. The restaurants are in multiple places, the shopping center is on the far left, the hotels, with the apartments and living areas are after the shopping center, the buildings are after the apartments and hotels, and so forth until it becomes one large circle.

The street they're on is one of two that leads to downtown.

Katniss is a little enlightened by how new it looks. The last impression she had of it was smoke and grays and traps and peacekeepers wanting her to die, at any cost, bloodbaths painting the concrete red and black, soot in her eyes and lungs.

But this is different. There's something promising about the way it looks. It's still over the top with its extravagance, but maybe…it'll be better. She hopes, as she can't help but do, but she doesn't want them to get too high. She can feel it tickling her face, wanting her to smile a little at the sights, but she can't yet. She can't think about the good things too soon.

"First time in the Capitol, Miss?" the driver asks, diverting her attention to the mirror.

Katniss keeps her face impassive as she turns back to the window. "No. No, it's not."

"Ah," he says, "well it's much prettier than it used to be, if that's possible. There's a lot of nice spots here. You've shown her the valley site, yet?" he directs his question to Gale.

Gale shakes his head. "Not yet," he says. "Hopefully she'll let me."

The man laughs at that, as if it's the funniest thing in the world. Katniss stares at the back of the driver's seat and gives it an annoyed look.

"She definitely will! Won't you, Miss?"

"My name's Katniss, and probably not," she bites out, more angrily than she meant.

The man's laughter dwindles, and he mumbles something, remaining quiet the rest of the way. Katniss doesn't see it, but Gale hides a smile as he looks out his own window.

They arrive in ten more minutes of silence, right in front of a tall building. Katniss gets out of the car and cranes her neck at its height, trying to see the top.

"What floor are you on?" she asks, turning her head to the entrance. People walk in and out of it with brightly colored coffee cups and holders, strangely shaped suitcases, and flamboyant suits. Gale's outfit pales in comparison to what everyone else seems to be wearing.

"Thirty-six," he answers, shoving his hands into his pockets after he shuts the taxi door. "If we get lucky, there won't be a lot of people stopping us on the elevator," he says.

They walk through the swirling doors, and Katniss almost runs into the glass. Gale gives her an amused look.

"Didn't think you'd be so uncoordinated."

She grimaces. "It's not like I've been here before." She takes in the people passing her, while they give her the same kind of studying looks. "What's this called, anyway?"

"It's just a government building. There are different types of offices on different floors. Some floors have the same type of cabinet. The one I work for has five floors. It's a little smaller than the rest, but it's just as important."

Some people acknowledge him as they walk to the elevators that are near the front doors. Some only stare at her. She wonders if they notice who she is, or if they're wondering why she's wearing such dull clothing.

_Probably the latter_, she thinks, rolling her eyes.

And he's right – the elevator is stopped repeatedly. Once, it got so full that she was pushed back against Gale, his arm touching her arm, and she had to keep herself from flinching. And once a few left, she was able to move and breathe clearly.

His floor is not what she expects. She thought it would look different from the first floor, but it almost looks the same. Same lanes weaving around windowed rooms with shapely blinds. Some have different colored doors with stripes or polka dots or solid, bright colors. Some had their names scrawled on their doors with customized fonts. The walls look like they're covered with silver wrapping paper, shining in some places from the sun peaking through the glass window on the west wall.

The place sparkles.

They pass a few secretaries, licking at envelopes or getting parcels ready or knocking on their bosses doors. Some of them remind her of Effie – with their ridiculous hair and jewelry and pumps on their feet.

They walk down the aisle all the way to the end of the row. Gale's office looks a little larger than the rest, with his door a dark, forest green and his name in black, bold letters across the top half of his door.

"My other home," he says, sarcastically. "They made me paint my door."

"You mean you didn't want this lovely shade of green?" she says dryly as he opens it.

"I guess I got lucky," he shakes his head, walking into the room. "It was the last color left to choose from."

She walks in after him, gauging his room. It's very simple, with a mahogany desk and a large, intricate chair. The walls remind her of the walls at his apartment, having a warm tint mixed with the off-white paint. The carpet is black and compact and bouncy, and the wall behind his chair is covered in blinds. It spans the whole stretch of wall – and it's a little fascinating. She wonders why he has the blinds down over them. There are two plush chairs in front of his desk, a computer on the right hand side of his desk and a stack of papers in the middle. He has a few picture frames up on the left hand side, but she can only see the back of them. She guesses they must be of his family back home.

She stands in the middle of the room, glancing at the two bare walls on either side of her as he takes his seat in the large leather chair behind his desk. She notices a few filing cabinets on near the corners of the room, another small desk, and a lamp on top of it.

"You can sit down if you want to," he says, motioning to the plush chairs in front of him.

She makes her way over and sits down, easily slipping into the cushions. They're much less firm than the couch at his apartment, as if many people have needed to sit in them before her. She shifts around, but it seems the cushions force her to lean back into the chair.

Gale starts rearranging some of the papers on his desk, glancing over a few and frowning at them. He makes two stacks, one being much taller than the second one.

"What are those for?" she asks.

Gale looks up to see her watching his papers. He finds himself liking that she's showing interest, even if it's very slight, and asking questions instead of him having to propel it along by himself.

He clears his throat. "These," he says, gesturing to the smaller pile, "are confirmation papers. The ones I need to sign off on. But these," he says distastefully, "are the ones I have to read over. They have suggestions for what crops to be shipped to what company or food processor in different districts and estimated numbers of how much they would like. I have to look over it and make the necessary adjustments." He sighs. "And when I have to make large cuts from what they want, I'm usually asked to a meeting to figure out certain compromises."

_Or listen to arguments for a few hours_, he thinks bitterly.

She seems to think about it for a while. "Do you go to the meetings by yourself?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Usually there're always a few more representatives to come with me, depending on what District is complaining. Whatever District I go to, the representatives specialize in that district here."

"Doesn't sound like very much fun," she says.

"The trips are nice," he shrugs. "This job means I don't have to stay stuck in the office for a long time. Someone always wants something they can't have."

She feels immediately uncomfortable under his stare after what he says, but maybe she misreads the look. She shifts and looks down to her lap.

"So you're the bearer of bad news?"

He absently bends the edges of one of the papers, grabbing a pen from a cup near his computer.

"Mostly, but not always," he says. "We can satisfy a District's demands every once in a while." He's staring at the paper in front of him, but she can tell he isn't reading. "But we can never satisfy all of their demands at one time."

"Why not?" she asks. "Do they all really ask for so much?"

Gale looks over the edge of the paper at her, his stare hard. "Yes. They do, all of them do. This country can't afford to give everyone what they want. We'd go into debt, and right now, we can't afford to have to worry about deficits when we can avoid them." His eyes flick back to the paper, and he scrawls his pen across a line.

"It's about sacrificing," he says. "If one District can grow wheat and grains, like 11, and another District can only produce coal and minerals, like 12, we have to forego District 11's need in order to help out District 12. If we have overproduction in another type of crop, we can afford to send food out to District 11 in a compromise – they won't get what they want, but they'll still get something." He finishes off another paper, and soon the small stack is almost filed away. "You might be surprised how greedy and demanding a District can get if they don't get a product they specifically ask for. There's always someone too blinded by the troubles in their one District that they can't understand the troubles of the others."

Katniss sees the muscle in his jaw clenching, like he's gritting his teeth. She suddenly understands how much all this bothers him. She could almost see it at the dinner table, almost a week ago, when he was explaining his job. But he seemed fine with it, as fine as he could, smiling at Posy and teasing Vick without any strain.

But now, he looks like he's glaring at all the papers with a subdued kind of annoyance.

"At least...you're helping. Like you said," she tries, ignoring his glaring at the paper.

"The only thing I'm helping is containing the appetite of the people," he says. His eyes seem to grow steadily darker as he speaks. "It's an endless, tireless cycle. Nothing changes except what we decide to give them."

The tone he leaves is intimidating, and she can't bring herself to say anything more. She leaves him to his work for several minutes, the only sound breaking the silence is the crisp clicks and shuffles of the papers against his desk.

"Sorry," he says, once the air between them cools, and his eyes are a little brighter than before. He has more composure in his face and in his voice. "Guess I can be still angry about all of it. No more oppression and a full tank of free will, and people can't handle it. They think they can have it all."

"Not everyone thinks that."

"You're right," he says, pushing back from his desk with his hands. "Only the people that matter. Or, the people I talk to. That makes it feel like everyone."

"But it's not," she says, surprised at her stern voice.

"I know," he answers immediately. "I'm just saying it can be hard reading between the lines on these damn papers."

He looks up to her after a minute, arching a brow. "You wanna read through one?"

"No, thanks," she says breezily. "That job is all yours."

"It's gonna be boring just sitting there until..." he glances at the clock on his wall. "Noon."

"If I start dying, I'll let you know."

"Fantastic. I'll give you twenty minutes."

"That's all?"

"Or...wait, did you bring your knitting needles with you?"

At this, he receives a ghastly glare. He scoffs a laugh, holding his hands up in mock defense.

"Joking. Lighten up."

"You're one to talk," she says, rolling her eyes. "Hating your job, and all."

"I never said that," he says defensively.

"Who're you trying to fool?"

At this, she almost witnesses his hackles raise, daring her to say anything more.

But she distinctly knows that what she says or does won't hurt her at all. He cant afford for it to, and she has a feeling that he doesn't want to say cruel things to her. But it's a guess. It's only because it seems like he goes out of his way to be accommodating for her, though she's still not certain how much of it is real or how much is fabricated - how much is for Peeta and how much is for himself.

He looks as if he's struggling with an answer, and she wonders how he'll answer.

"Look," he sighs. "It can be frustrating, sure, and it can be taxing. But there can be bright spots. On the trips I take, I'm able to go see the Districts and how they're doing. I'm able to see the good things. It's always worth it in the end and besides," he says. "Working directly under Paylor does have its benefits."

His answer doesn't exactly surprise her. Of course it's a soft blow, like a pellet instead of a bullet. But...she gives a quizzical look. "Like what?"

"Discounts, leniency...free haircuts," he replies.

He easily avoids answering the question - just like he had at the dinner. And she wonders why. Why ignore such a simple question? He's always been honest - well, he used to be honest. He'd say what was on his mind when he wanted to. It's something that she can't forget about him, even if she wanted to. She's known him too long to forget.

She glares up at his answer.

"That doesn't seem like much to keep you from hating it."

His mouth flickers to a smile, one where she can see the tips of his teeth. It isn't a friendly smile.

"Stop trying to provoke me, Catnip," he says, a dangerous edge to his voice - like retaliation. "It isn't going to work."

Her face twitches at the old endearment, which burns her ears like an insult. She swallows, but bites back, "I think it is working, by the way you're acting."

"I think it's just you, _Catnip."_

Se flinches again. "Stop _calling_ me that."

He leans back into his chair a little, giving her a challenging look. "Why should I?"

His face and his tone and his _everything_ forces her to stand and clap her hands onto the desk in front of her. Her eyes are hot and her cheeks burn with feverish emotion - anxiety and anger and a desperate need to put him in his place and keep him away from her.

The past few days have been nothing but discomfort and torture and restless sleep. She feels like she hasn't slept in months after three days. She knew it wouldn't be easy, and maybe she's thinking too prematurely, but...

"You don't have the right anymore!" she shouts down at him. "You know that! Why ask?"

His eyes glint. "I want to hear it from you," he says evenly. "Why don't I have the right?"

It's silent. All Katniss can hear are her lungs rattling in her chest, her uneven breathing through her mouth. His eyes are piercing her own, and she forces herself to keep the stare. She won't let herself look away, not this time, and it takes every ounce she's got to ignore every instinct that tells her to break eye contact, to just bolt out the door and leave him forever.

"Because," she whispers, her voice a sudden, hoarse croak. "Prim's dead," her voice cracks, and she stumbles on her name. It's been so long and she_ still stutters on her name._ "You aren't my friend," she continues on. "I don't like you, but I'm here anyway. So you should respect what I ask."

They both hold the stare almost longer then she can take. It's a meaningless victory when he blinks, and moves his eyes away from her first.

"That wasn't so hard to say, was it?" he says after a few beat of silence. His voice still retains the evenness from before, his face still sharp and his lips still neutral, like what she said didn't matter.

It makes her flare more, makes her want to reach over and grasp his throat and strangle him.

She has this inexplicable need, desire, to cause - make him show some type of pain.

He hasn't shown any raw, terrible pain since she's seen him, even in District 12. And she wants to see it. She needs it. She needs to see and feel that anguish from him because he deserves it. Doesn't he?

But she sees everything besides that. Annoyance, anger, pity – she's seen those. Easy smiles, practiced smiles, and a carefully shielded face most of the time.

Before she can do anything else, there's a stanza of happy knocks on the door and a loud inquiry for Gale.

"Come in, Miranda," Gale calls, and Katniss reluctantly sits back into her chair.

The girl, Miranda, steps in, a few sheets of paper in hand, moving like a robot in her tight swath of clothing. She isn't wearing a dress, but Katniss can't distinguish between where the top ends and the skirt begins. It's dark pink with patterns of small flowers, intertwining their way from her bosom to her bottom, and she wiggles both without trying to seem like she's doing it on purpose. Katniss can tell by the way she swings her hips and arms.

"Mr. Hawthorne," she says brightly. "I just received these letters from District 4. It's an invitation!" she says happily, and upon seeing Katniss, is startled out of her stare at Gale.

"Oh, my!" she says, bringing her hand up to her chest in surprise, her gold lips forming an exaggerated O. "I wasn't aware you had a guest! Excuse my manners, Miss."

"Don't worry," Gale tells Miranda, waving off her anxiety. "She's just my cousin."

This gains another glare from Katniss.

"Oh! Well then, it's nice to meet you.." she trails, holding out her hand.

"Katniss," she answers, taking her hand.

Miranda just nods and smiles with a vacant look on her face.

Katniss tries to smile back, but can't get over the fact that the lady in front of her might be the first person to not know who she is. It almost makes Katniss's mood brighten exponentially.

"Thank you, Miranda," Gale says in a dismissal, once he receives the piece of paper from her.

She nods. "Of course. If you need anything, anything at all," she winks, "you know where to find me, darling!"

Then she leaves the room in a series of loud clomps on the carpet.

Katniss remains staring at the door for a while, too in awe to be disgusted at the endearment she called Gale, then hears herself breathlessly say, "She didn't.. know me."

It's more of a statement then a question, though Gale answers anyway.

"Don't get your hopes up," he replies, voice distracted by the paper he's reading. "She can't tell a mosquito from a gnat, much less a real person from someone on television five years ago."

And at this statement, the almost happy mood she feels is replaced by sourness in a flash. She crosses her arms, purses her lips, and they don't speak to each other again until lunch time.

They ride the elevator in silence, all the way down to the first floor. She's surprised when he leads them to a cafeteria off to the left side of the building. It's fancier then any of the ones that she's seen, though she doesn't have much to go by, besides the trays and set ups of food before the Games or in District 13. There are several people spread out among the tables, some seated by themselves with files acting as their company. Others are with their coworkers, laughing and talking. The place is filled with noise, the soft, golden walls ricocheting their words into jumbles of sound.

Gale glances around for a second, until he sees someone in the distance and smiles. Katniss's eyes find a man as they get closer to a table, who already has a tray full of a steak and potatoes. He grins up to Gale, loudly greeting him as they arrive. He's got a white dress shirt on, much like Gale's, but he's wearing a tie that's haphazardly wrapped around his neck, already loose and hanging. His hair is a dark brown, messy, with his bangs carelessly strewn across his forehead and some almost falling onto his eyes. They're a sharp, blue color, but open and friendly. He can't be a day over thirty.

She doesn't catch what they say to each other, until Gale turns to her and introduces them.

"Katniss, this is my friend, Anton, one of my squad mates. Anton, Katniss."

He gives her a wide grin, putting out his hand to shake her own. "It's an honor to meet you, Katniss."

The sincerity in his words almost moves her. She says, "Same here."

He laughs. "You don't have to lie. You've done many more good deeds than I have."

"Don't be too modest," Gale interjects. "She won't believe you."

Katniss tries to mimic the nice smile Anton gives her before Gale leads her toward the lunch lines, pointing out what section sells what types of food. There are so many it takes her a good chunk of time before Gale laughs at her and tells her that the chicken pot pie is good. She glares at him, ignores his suggestion, and gets a salad instead.

By the time they get back to the table, Anton is nearly finished with his meal.

"Overwhelmed by all the choices?" Anton asks, as they take their seats.

"Something like that," Gale answers, looking over to Katniss, who steadily ignores him and messes with her salad.

"Don't worry," Anton says to Katniss. "No tellin' how long it still takes me to know what I want."

Katniss gives him a small smile and a shrug.

"So what brings you here, Katniss?" Anton asks, taking a bite of his food. "Gale didn't mention a special visitor."

Katniss stirs her salad around a bit, looking distastefully down at the green leaves and absently wondering why she didn't go for the rabbit or steak.

She glances to Gale out of the corner of her eye, and sees that he's pointedly taking bites out of his lunch, not going out of his way to answer prettily for her. This makes her slightly suspicious – though she doesn't think it'd be a good idea to tell Anton about her true predicament.

"Well…" she says slowly. "I wanted to see how the Districts were doing. 12's pretty far from everyone else."

Gale looks at her, surprised at her answer. Katniss continues to ignore him.

Anton doesn't notice Gale's look, nodding at her instead. "I like to say the country's doing pretty well now. Don't know about Gale, though," he says, turning to him. "You're almost never satisfied."

"If I was satisfied," Gale answers lightly, "then I wouldn't be motivated to work."

"True," Anton concedes.

"But I think we're doing as best as we can," Gale amends. "Given the circumstances."

Anton grunts, but shrugs his shoulders. "Eh. I'm not complaining," he says, then he grins. "Think we'll catch that resistance group anytime soon? Jack's got a lot of theories spinnin' round."

Gale snorts. "Jack's imagination is…eccentric."

"He makes the implausible sound possible. C'mon, they're fun to mess around with."

"All he wants is to be seduced by a mysterious woman."

"Don't we all?" Anton laughs. "Oh, I forgot, Gale. You've already done all that."

Gale grumbles under his breath. "Shut up."

Anton leans back, looking to Katniss. "I take it you've known him longer than I have, Katniss," he says, winking playfully. "Would you say this guy's a slut?"

Gale's face is annoyed, though Anton coaxes an easy smile out of her. She leans an elbow onto the table. "I'd say so."

Gale stabs at his chicken, scoffing, while Anton chuckles. "See, Gale? Even Katniss thinks so."

"In fact," she continues, glancing to Gale with a mean kind of glint in her eyes. "His brothers are the exact same way."

Gale's eyes cut to her spitefully, though Anton happily laughs at Gale's anger.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Yeah, us Hawthornes just can't help ourselves," Gale says, rolling his eyes.

"Seriously, though, how is your family, Gale? The past year treat 'em alright?"

"They're okay," Gale answers, though he sighs. "Gets a little harder each time."

Anton finishes his meal, glancing up at him. "You know I can always arrange something…have them visit you whenever they can or when they want to. It'd be simple."

"I know," Gale says, but Katniss would bet that he'll never take that offer. His voice is too set and restrained to make her think otherwise. She thinks that Anton knows this too, and that maybe this isn't the first time he's suggested this to Gale.

A short silence carries until Katniss decides to break it.

"Do you work here, too, Anton?"

He smiles at her question. "I do. I work for District 6."

"District 6 is for transportation, right?"

"Sure is," he replies. "And I consider myself lucky. I'm from District 6, so it's really nice to be able to make sure that I can help them out. Make sure they get the supplies they need to keep manufacturing cars or planes or whatever they decide they need."

"Do you ever visit?" she asks him.

"Not really," he says. "I don't have anyone to visit. My family died back during the war."

He says the words easily, as if they don't affect him – and maybe they don't. His face remains the same, as if he's talking about the weather, and she wonders if he's really that okay with it.

She certainly isn't okay with it. She can't understand how he can be.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles quietly, watching his face. He only smiles.

"Don't be, Katniss. They died fighting against what they hated and for what they wanted. I wish they could be here, but they're not." He shrugs. "I'm proud I came from my family. Grieving isn't my favorite thing to do, anymore."

Katniss immediately decides that she likes Anton, right then. She likes how blatantly honest but sincere he is with his words, how he's completely at ease with everything that happened to him, and the happy glimmer in his eyes. She's envious of it - how he doesn't have the burden she carries anymore. They remind her of Peeta, a little, and she feels like he could become a fast friend.

She forgot what it felt like to make a friend – it's been a long time since the camaraderie she felt during the games and after. And he seems laidback enough to make friends wherever he goes. She's envious of this, too. Friends never came easy for her – _true_ friends, hardly at all.

She looks at Gale out of the corner of her eye, and she can remember when they were friends, if she unblocked her mind, if she wanted to.

But she doesn't want to. It was such a long time ago that she doesn't think she'll remember it correctly, anyway.

"What about your fam – " Anton starts, but chokes on the end words, face contorting in pain. He looks at Gale in bewilderment, but Gale only gives him a hard stare.

Katniss blinks at both of them – lost too deeply in her thoughts to know exactly what happened.

"You're…boyfriend?" he changes quickly, swallowing and trying to make his face go back to normal.

Katniss furrows her brow. "How did you know…?"

"Oh, you know," he says, rubbing the back of his head. "I was one of the ones that followed that story, between you guys." He chuckles, embarrassed. "I'm a sucker for forbidden romance and all that."

Katniss looks at him dubiously, wondering if he really was telling the truth. She steals a glance to Gale, only to see him not paying attention to Anton. He seems to be distracted by something in the distance.

"I thought people would have forgotten about that by now," she says, instead of answering the question.

"I'm not just a normal person," he says, flashing her a white smile. "I am part of a highly classified squad, you know."

"Right," she says dryly. "Well, he's doing fine."

"Surely if he's with you, he's doing more than fine."

"Maybe he is. He's happy."

"More than happy, probably." He leans on the table, moving closer to Katniss.

His effortless ease in flirtation has her wondering if he's not exactly like Gale in his exploits for women. She rolls her eyes at him, and she can tell he's almost affronted at her reaction.

"Okay, Anton," Gale says, effectively stopping Anton's assault. He raises a brow at Gale.

"What's wrong, Gale?" he asks, smiling, a glint of_ knowing_ in his eyes. "Don't like Katniss's choices in men?"

"It's none of my business," he answers, swiftly. "But she's not one for falling for flirting."

Anton gives her a friendly smile. "So I've noticed. But that's alright. I know when to quit."

"No, you don't."

Anton laughs. "You're right. I don't."

Anton has to leave after that, but when he does, he gives her a chaste kiss on her palm and promises that they'll see each other soon. Katniss almost laughs at his dramatics.

"Oh, and Gale – we're all meeting at Eddie's tonight. Jack'll probably call you, so don't make any plans. And invite Katniss!"

* * *

a/n: anon review replies:

anon: haha i don't know how long eventual is, but I'm gonna make it happen. Thanks so much for your compliments, as always.

Lauren: thanks so much for reviewing! Hope you liked this chapter(:


	10. a little off balance

a/n; heh. y'all have given me 69 reviews. HEH. ...i'm immature. ._.  
are you guys trying to tell me something?  
;)

chapter ten - a little off balance

* * *

The rest of the day passes much like it did before lunch – quiet and long, with many papers being passed from one side of the desk to the other, sometimes sent to Miranda, and sometimes put into the filing cabinet.

Sometimes he would talk to her about things – like her thoughts on Anton, or whether she was absolutely positive she didn't want to read over some of the papers, though she was almost certain he was joking.

Before they leave, Gale receives a phone call from Jack – just like Anton said he would – telling him to go to Eddie's.

Katniss isn't exactly sure that she wants to go, but the thought of being stuck alone in Gale's apartment isn't very tempting. It doesn't take much persuasion from Gale to get her to go. And, surprisingly, the thought of meeting the rest of the squad makes her curious, and if she's daring to admit it…a little excited.

They take a taxi again, driving on the road over to downtown. Things look a little different in the dusky nighttime. There are more oranges and pinks that decorate the place, all over the streets and the buildings, making it look soft and light and somehow, very vulnerable.

Eddie's is on the corner of one of the cobblestone streets. There aren't any windows, and the outside is a dark green color – it reminds her of Gale's office door. The words are bold and bright red, fluorescent lights curling the words with a cursive font. There are small lamps on the outside, with flames inside them instead of bulbs, making the entrance hazy and warm as people walk through, tricking people into already feeling intoxicated as they walk through the doors.

Katniss feels the breath of alcohol on her tongue as she follows Gale into the bar. The stench fills her lungs and stomach with fabricated warmth and she finds herself liking it. She hasn't drank in a while – Peeta doesn't like drinking, and even though she doesn't think she has a problem with it, she never had the chance to drink anything besides what Haymitch would smuggle into his house.

But she's always had a mild curiosity about what it would feel like to get drunk. She always thought it might be nice, to sometimes become just like Haymitch for a while. To forget, for a while.

She looks around as she follows him toward a table in the back. The walls are all black, with TVs hanging up on the walls around the room on different stations. There aren't many people in the place yet, and she guesses that's because it's only almost about six o'clock. There's a pool table on the other side, and space for musicians, with instruments set up and amps pushed up against the wall. The bartender behind the counter is wiping down the table while talking to a couple of the patrons sitting on the benches in front of him.

As they reach the table, Katniss sees the familiar face of Anton, and another man with a bandana wrapped around his forehead and tattoos spanning the length of his arm from his shoulders to the middle of his forearms. They seem to be arguing about something as they take their seats, Katniss sandwiched sitting in between Gale and Anton.

Anton immediately breaks off conversation with the man beside him, grinning widely to Katniss. "I told you we'd see each other soon, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," she says, smiling back.

"Who's this?" says the man beside him.

"This here," Anton speaks. "Is Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, this is the ever-crazy Jack."

Jack grins crookedly at the statement, reaching over to Katniss with a gloved hand. They're worn and rough, and his eyes crinkle in time with them as Katniss shakes his hand.

"Well, well," he says in greeting. "You're the one we've heard so incredibly little about this past year."

Katniss raises a brow. "What?"

"I knew there was a reason I didn't want to come tonight," Gale says, sarcastically, waving for a waiter to come to the table.

Anton rests his arm on the back of Katniss's chair, leaning toward her ear conspiratorially.

"You see, we've had this wager going ever since we learned Gale was part of your team in the war…"

Katniss leans away slightly, giving him a skeptical glare.

"What kind of wager?"

"A stupid one," Gale says, whacking Anton's hand away from Katniss's seat and still looking around agitatedly for a waiter.

Anton ignores him, continuing to talk to Katniss. "Some of us thought that maybe you and Gale had – "

"I'm getting a drink," Gale announces, standing up abruptly.

"Sex," Jack shouts happily, laughing at Gale's reaction.

Katniss chokes.

"Before your lover boy. And maybe even after. No offense to your fidelity, or anything, Katniss, but I preferred you going after both at the same time," says Jack, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, his smile large and toothy.

Anton places his forearm onto the table, still invading Katniss's space. "I know I told you I had a thing for forbidden love earlier today, but I've known Gale for a while, and I wouldn't like you _any_ less if you told me you had forbidden love with him, too."

"A lot of it," Jack adds.

Katniss feels her face flush with humiliation at the thought of doing something like that and a terrible rage hurriedly burns up her spine.

"Why would you think – " she says in one, squeaky breath.

"Well, Gale's never told us otherwise," Jack shrugs. "Actually, he doesn't tell us anything about you, which really sucks because – "

"We don't know _anything_ about you, _anyway_," Anton finishes. "And no matter what we say, he won't budge at all."

"Unhealthy, if you ask me," Jack says, taking a swig of a beer that Katniss hadn't noticed. "Clams up about you as if you died."

"An emotional little bastard, if you ask _me_."

All three of them look up at the new voice, hovering right above them. It takes Katniss a few seconds to realize who she is.

"Mason!" Anton shouts, dislodging himself from Katniss's space and standing up with infinite theatrics. "'Bout time you got here." He makes his way to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder much like he did to Katniss's chair. "I was starting to worry."

Johanna snorts, slugging him in the side and effectively shoving him off her. "Shut up, Telon. I don't need your obnoxious noise today."

"Please," he scoffs. "You love it."

"It's a shame I love seeing you bleed, more," she says, going to punch him again, before he takes his cue to back off.

"Whatever," Anton mumbles, though he switches seats from beside Katniss to beside Johanna. "What's wrong with you, today? Usually your panties aren't in such a twist."

Johanna gives him a dirty look. "Nothing that concerns you." Then she flicks her eyes over to Katniss.

"Never thought I'd see you again, though. How are you?" Johanna asks Katniss, surprisingly nicer than Katniss remembers.

"Fine," Katniss answers. "You're part of the squad, too? Gale didn't mention it."

Johanna barks a laugh. "That guy doesn't mention anything that isn't straightforward or important. But yeah," she says, crossing her arms on the table. "Paylor contacted me about a year ago. Asked me if I wanted to be part of a squad." She shrugs. "I wasn't doing anything very worth my while at the time, so I said yes. And I've been stuck with these morons ever since," she says sardonically, looking at Anton and Jack.

"I've got a feeling Paylor didn't want to be the only woman around, putting us in place," Jack grins. "Not that_ I_ have a problem with that."

"Just fantasize about your ever illusive Calypso, Jackie," Johanna bites out, rolling her eyes.

She looks different, Katniss thinks, watching the three of them banter back and forth. She remembers a lonely, mean girl that loved nobody back then, giving bravado of being tougher than the world when she was very far from it. The girl that didn't care about what anyone thought of her. In that, she still remained the same. Her aura is confident and sure. She acts tough – but now she _is _tough. It isn't an act. Katniss can see the wires of muscle in her arms, her baggy, gray tank top hiding her slim figure from view. There's a tattoo that stems from somewhere near her left shoulder, hinting at its existence with black, inky tendrils poking around the fabric of her clothes. Her hair's a little longer than she remembers, though it's still almost boyishly short. Her eyes are stretched and a little wiser, and there's a white line of a scar from her forehead to the middle of her cheek in a crescent shape. Katniss guesses it could be from a knife, or something from close combat.

"I didn't think Gale would ever bring you here," Johanna says a while later, once there's a pause between the three squad mates. "Or that you'd come here."

Katniss stares down at her fingers on the table. "Me either."

"You likin' your stay so far?" Jack asks.

Katniss hesitates before saying, "It's alright."

Anton sighs. "She hates it, everyone."

"I'll make a wild guess and say it's the company," says Johanna.

"No, it's not yo – " Katniss quickly says to them, though she notices Johanna's eyes pointing toward the bar and to Gale. She follows her gaze and stops talking, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Thought so," Johanna smirks.

"Wait, so, you _don't like_ Gale?" Anton inquiries, looking from Katniss to Johanna. "How'd you know that?" he asks Johanna.

"And why didn't you tell us what you knew before, Mason?" Jack asks accusingly. "Could have saved me a few bucks."

"Then there wouldn't have been any fun in watching you lose," she smiles sharply. "Besides, it's not like I spent my time during the war wondering about her love triangle."

"So there _was_ a love triangle?" asks Jack, leaning forward hopefully.

"No," Katniss says, punctuating the air. "Nothing happened and nothing will. Okay? You all lose whatever stupid wager you had, alright?"

Anton and Jack look at her then look away, eyes raising up at her tone. Johanna watches her curiously, and her eyes glint with the knowing look. Katniss forgets that Johanna could have seen things she didn't. She could know she's lying, but really – nothing had happened. Well, maybe not _nothing_, but...

"Bolts!" Jack breaks the silence once he looks up, holding up his beer in greeting. "Was wondering if you were gonna get your old ass up here."

Katniss looks up, along with Anton and Johanna, watching as the older man takes his seat next to Jack and Johanna. He doesn't look very old – more like early to late forties – with a few strands of gray hair decorating his temples, mixing with his dark hair. His hazel eyes are tired, but he smiles as he melts into his chair, the soft wrinkles around his eyes fading into his skin.

"Anybody else have a long day?"

"Yes," answers Johanna immediately. Anton shakes his head, and Jack says, "Days are always long."

"This hasn't been the brightest season, that's for sure," says the newcomer, Bolts, rolling his shoulder in a lazy stretch. "Staring at blueprints and screws all day can really wear a guy out."

"You ain't as young as you used to be," says Jack, amused. "You're even more peppered today than you were yesterday."

"You'll get there soon enough, Jack," Bolts says, waving off his comment. He glances up and locks eyes with Katniss, a questioning look running through his eyes a second before acknowledgement.

"Well, hello," he says genially, tipping his head to her. "Sorry I didn't see you earlier. The name's Dirk Turner, but everyone else seems to have forgotten it."

"We call him Bolts because he's one of the best engineers we know," Anton winks.

"I'm the only one you know, Ant."

"Like I said, the best one."

"I'm Katniss," she says. "I'm visiting for a little while."

"Ah, Katniss," Dirk nods, giving her an appraising look. "Gale taking care of you?"

The grimace she gives is automatic. "For now."

"Good," he says. "Paylor made a good choice. If I had to leave one of my daughters with someone to babysit, it'd be him."

_Glad he thinks so_, Katniss thinks, annoyed. _Too bad I'm not a little girl_.

Johanna speaks for her. "It's okay, Bolts. Katniss really doesn't like him."

Bolts looks up at this. "Oh?"

"Apparently not," Jack says, forlornly. "Isn't that a shame?"

"He's an okay kid," Bolts says. "Rough around the edges, but he's a good man."

Katniss doesn't think her words can argue with this man's, with his matured years making his verbal remarks irrefutable. She just closes her mouth and doesn't comment. _Wisely_, she tells herself.

Jack whistles a second later, eyes glued to the bar.

"Mm! Was hoping she'd show up soon. Damn."

All the rest look up, with Dirk looking uninterested, Anton looking her body up and down with semi-curiousness, and Johanna looking with solid disdain.

Katniss sees the red, auburn hair, red dress and red heels, and isn't sure what she feels, compared to everyone else's blatant emotions.

She's got her hands tangled with Gale's, talking closely to him while he drains a drink and orders another. He doesn't look very enthused at her presence, and he looks like he's having a hard time deciding what he wants to do, balancing from foot to foot. Katniss isn't sure that she's ever seen him so uncertain before.

"_You_ invited her, didn't you?" Johanna asks Jack, iciness chilling her tone.

"Of course I did."

Johanna grimaces. "Am I the only one that sees past her ass? She's a first class bitch."

Jack rolls his eyes sky high. "Just because she's pretty..."

"Exactly. You all just want to fuck her." She leans back. "Well, maybe not you, Bolts..."

"My wife's much prettier than she is," Bolts smiles, agreeing.

"I think _you_ know who I'd like to fuck," Anton says, leaning closer to Johanna's ear.

"In your wildest dreams, Telon," she sneers, pushing him forcefully off her. "The rest of you can't see how much of a brown-noser she is," she continues. "She's been forcing herself on Gale for the better part of this year. Maybe last year, too. I don't know. How long have they been together again?"

"According to Gale, they're not technically...'together'," Jack says, using quotations.

"Is that what he says now?" Johanna drawls.

"Mason...is that jealousy I hear?" Anton asks, his eyes that had been staring at her become more pronounced in their curiosity. Then his voice holds a tone of an awed epiphany. "Oh, I get it. You don't like Reeva because you think she's a bitchier, prettier version of _you_."

Johanna's eyes slit dangerously, and she gets in Anton's face. He doesn't back away, and Katniss admires how he can hold his ground against her. It definitely isn't an easy thing to do.

"Listen here, _Anton_," she hisses. "I don't_ get_ jealous. Gale is my friend and he's been in this situation longer than I've ever seen him in one before. This woman has claws. She won't let him go. If you'd pay attention to more than what she looks like, you'd realize how much of a clingy dictator she is." She sneers, eyes flashing. "To think that I'd be jealous over someone so _vile_ is one of the worst kinds of insults anyone could ever give me."

Anton keeps her stare, never flinching, though his mouth evolves into a frown.

Jack whistles at them in the background, and Bolts takes a drink of something he had ordered only a minute before. Both of them don't look particularly worried about it.

Katniss leans forward a little, toward Jack. He glances at her, giving her a friendly smile.

"Do they usually do this?" Katniss asks, whispering.

Jack leans forward and meets her halfway, following her lead in whispering. "Um…yeah." Then he shrugs. "But Bolts and I, we've learned to leave 'em be, since they love each other and all."

Katniss's eyebrow quirks. "What?"

Jack flicks his finger toward her, gesturing to get closer. She reluctantly brings her head nearer to him.

"See that?" he remarks, tilting his head toward Anton and Johanna. Katniss watches as Johanna's glare intensifies and Anton's frown increases, and they continue talking about something Katniss can't make out. They both seem uncaring or unaware about the others watching them.

"I don't think I see your point," she says eventually.

"You stand around long enough, it gets easier to see," Jack says. "Anton's kind of an asshole. You might not see that at first, but I've seen the guy kill men and rip girls to shreds. But when he really likes somethin', or someone, he just don't know how to go about it. He's a little too used to breaking than building, but if you squint," he says, stopping for a second and demonstrating a heavy squint, bringing up his hands to form a square of a picture around Anton's head. "Then you can see he's got it bad. Check out his eyes."

Katniss, though feeling a little silly, copies his squint. Anton's eyes kind of blur together from the effort, and all she can really notice is the tension between the two of them.

"Anton hides his concern in flirting. Johanna shows her affection through rough handling and meanness. Seriously? I don't think I've ever seen her give anyone a hug or a wink or even a true smile besides Gale."

At this, Katniss raises a brow. "Gale?"

"Yeah," Jack says, missing the suspicious inflection in Katniss's voice. "They've known each other since the war. I figured that they had that companionship already, that old-timey friendship, ya know?" he looks at her. "But I guess you already knew that since you were with them."

The strange thing is, she _didn't_ know. Had they been friends back then? She had been wrapped up with her life and Peeta's life and everything went by so fast...she didn't take the time out to be around Gale or know what Johanna did when she wasn't in their shared rooms back in District 13.

Katniss glances up to Johanna, who's now broken contact from Anton and grabbing at Bolt's drink. Bolt grunts at her, pushing it just out of her reach.

Had they been friends? It makes her disconcerted that she doesn't know, though it shouldn't. What does she care what Gale had been doing during the war besides being inside the bomb fortifications room? Making weapons of mass destruction without even thinking of the consequences…

But she can't quite keep the surprise down. She knows that he always liked having a girl whenever he wanted. It just didn't seem like he'd court Johanna during a war while they laid siege on the Capitol. Did he honestly have the time? Besides, he had still been jealous over Peeta and her friendship with Finnick and just about anything and everything else.

"I didn't," she answers tersely.

"Oh," Jack says. "Well, that was a long time ago. Anyway, that's why Anton keeps jabbing her about Gale all the time. She doesn't help herself, though, always standing up for him or trying to protect him."

"Why does she?" Katniss can't help but ask.

"Like I said," Jack says. "I thought it was because they were good friends a long time ago. But Johanna works weird, too. Never know what that chick's thinkin'." He glances back toward the couple across from them. "I think more like Anton, so I guess that's why I got him better under the gun. Johanna acts the same toward everyone, except sometimes Gale, but she's meaner toward Anton. Guess that's why I think she loves him." Then he rubs his chin in thought. "S'pose she might prefer Gale, but I've never seen it. Gale's kinda flighty."

"That's surprisingly wise, Jack," Bolts says, beside him. He's smiling at him, eyes a little wide, as if he's mildly shocked.

"Yeah, yeah. Just because you're the oldest doesn't mean you're the wisest."

Bolts only gives a gruff laugh before sealing it with a drink.

"You've been studying this for a while, I'm guessing?" Katniss asks.

Jack looks at her and goofily grins. "When these people can decide whether you live or die in the blink of a second," he says. "You learn trust them. Then you learn how you can mess with their personal lives. There's always a weakness somewhere."

"Or you respect them enough to let them make their own decisions," Bolts says. _"Jack,_" he emphasizes when Jack ignores him.

Katniss looks back and forth between all of them, then to Gale and Reeva up at the bar. They soon start making their way over to the table, and the tone immediately shifts around Katniss. Jack leans away from her, snugly fitting his back against his chair. Johanna pointedly purses her lips, not putting an ounce of energy to hide her distaste. Anton exhales deeply, placing a loose arm back around the back of Johanna's chair, and tries not to look agitated when she shifts forward in her chair, away from him even further. Bolts is the one who changes the least, looking for all the world unfazed by the presence of Reeva, sipping easily from his rum glass, and Katniss is positive that Reeva doesn't bother him at all like she effects everyone else.

Gale takes his seat besides her, and Reeva sits beside him and Anton, filling up the circle of the table.

"Hi, everyone," Reeva greets nicely, glancing toward each person. Bolts nods politely to her, asking her how she's been. Jack greets her with a giant smile. Anton smiles at her, too. Johanna first gives a lingering glance at Gale that he returns, shakes her head, then snorts, mutters that she's getting a drink, and leaves.

Anton's eyes follow her as she takes a seat at the bar. Katniss thinks that he's going to follow her, but he shows a type of regret in his face for a second before he looks back at the people surrounding the table.

"It's good to see you again, Katniss," Reeva says, smiling at her and ignoring Johanna's departure.

Katniss is a little caught off guard at the attention. "Oh," she ends up saying. "You, too."

Bolts quickly takes up the conversation, breezing into short topics, like work and time and weather. Jack takes up the conversation with him, and Katniss is glad they're so good at it. She sits and listens, learning about Jack and his job, which ends up being a pilot. He's usually the test runner for prototypes, checking for mistakes in the make, or the test dummy in case the whole thing falls apart in mid-air.

He mentions that it sounds scarier than it really is, but Katniss isn't too sure about that. It seems the scariness of it is the same no matter how one looks at it.

Bolts talks some about his job, but he talks more about his wife, Joy, and how her name matches all of who she is. He talks about his two daughters and son, and how they're his life. He twirls his wedding ring a lot, she notices, and sometimes she notices how Gale watches it, too.

Anton doesn't talk as much as Jack and Bolts – he seems a little distracted while Johanna's gone. He does talk about District 6 a little, though, and hints about how he hates traveling –

"Which is a good thing you do all the dirty work, Gale," he says, laughing. Gale shrugs and agrees.

"It's funny that you don't like traveling when you're from District 6," Reeva says. "Since it's all about transportation."

Anton laughs a little, scratching the back of his head. "I guess it's because the only reason anyone would travel would be because they were going to the Games or selling drugs. I know it's been over for a long time, but it's been instilled in me ever since I was born. Trains terrify me. People that would get on, whether to take drugs or vehicles or go to the Games, never came back." He smiles hollowly. "It's a shame though – I've heard some of the Districts are gorgeous."

"I've seen a few. But they weren't anything to brag about," Reeva says, and Katniss thinks she says it to make Anton feel better.

"You ever go to District 6?" he asks her.

"Not yet."

"Don't. It's a shithole place, and you're too pretty to have to see it," he says. "Trust me. There isn't anything there besides drug addicts or drug addicts that invent new, shiny cars."

Reeva looks at him a while, searching for words to say. It seems that everyone else around, Gale and Jack and Bolts, have already heard this from him, or already knew about 6. Katniss can't believe she's never figured it out before. Connecting the morphling tributes back in the Quarter Quell to excessive drugs that must have been cycling around in their District, their title of transportation, and while it may be true, it'd be easy to create a massive drug bartering system. She just never took the time out before to think much about the other Districts, besides when she went on the Winner's Tour, but even then, they all looked like her District – barely scraping by and poor and torn down. She wonders absently if Anton was in the crowd that was watching her and Peeta speak, if he felt the resentment that she saw in most of the faces.

"It's better now," Reeva says. "If you ever want to attempt to take over your fear, I'd recommend you to visit it. The drug rings are all but nonexistent, and the – "

"Thanks," Anton stops her. "But no thanks. There's nothing to see from that place anymore. I left it, rode one plane to get away, and there's nothing that'll change my mind." He shifts, his frown turning into an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Reeva. I'm just not up to that kind of…mission, yet."

She nods. "I understand. But maybe someday," she speaks, a knowing tone stretching out her words. "You can take Miss Mason…show her where you come from."

Anton snorts at her, much like Johanna had right before she left the table. "I'd rather not show her any of that."

"If you asked her, she'd go with you, Anton," Jack says, waggling his eyebrows.

"C'mon, Jack. I need advice from you least of all."

"Just sayin', man," Jack says, raising his hands passively. "But she did say she had a rough day. Maybe you could go up there and give her a couple kisses…"

"That's suicide," Anton deadpans.

"But you'd die happy, right?" Jack grins.

"Jack's got a point, you know," Gale says, speaking for the first time since he's sat down.

Anton glares at Gale for a while. "Wouldn't that make you mad?"

Gale looks confused. "What would make me mad?"

Then Anton laughs and turns away from him. "Nothing."

"Jealous," Jack says in high-pitched voice. Everyone glances at him, with Bolt looking a little annoyed. It's a strange emotion to see on him, besides the contented tiredness and the laidback indifference. Reeva's eyes glint at the word, but Gale only raises his brows in a questioning glance.

Katniss bites the inside of her bottom lip as she watches everyone.

"Who's jealous?" Gale asks Jack. "Anton?"

"Please," Reeva says under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Bolt clears his throat, taking a drink to keep him from speaking.

"Kidding," Jack amends, drawing out the word. "I was just messing with y'all. Geez."

Katniss tries to hide her smile, but Gale notices it out of the corner of his eye, giving her a dubious and slightly incredulous look.

"What is it?"

She shrugs hurriedly, shaking her head. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, and you haven't said anything this whole time, Katniss," Jack says, pouncing on the opportunity to get the suspicion off his back. Katniss's eyes widen slightly in horror, and she looks around the table for a savior, only to see Bolt grinning and Anton distractedly scratching at the table, hiding a smirk.

"Um…"

"How long are you staying in the city?" Bolts asks, slipping easily into a new topic.

_And the first question, I can't even answer_, Katniss thinks darkly. _Great._

She grasps for a number in her head, blurting out, "A week or two, I guess."

"We'll get to see you more often, then, yeah?" Anton asks.

The thought, surprisingly, isn't a tiring one. Katniss actually feels herself looking forward to it, and their time tonight isn't even over yet. It makes her a little hopeful.

"As long as you'll have me," she says, honestly. They all assure her that they will, and she smiles at them.

They go on to ask her other questions, like what she does back in 12, what the retired revolution starter does in her pastime. She laughs a little, assuring them that she's a very boring person – and she truthfully explains what she does with Peeta, like helping him in the bakery, spending time with him, that she still goes hunting, and she even admits to knitting.

She's surprised when Gale doesn't make a snide comment about it.

But Reeva does.

"Knitting?" she asks, surprise counteracting her hidden disgust.

"…yes," Katniss says.

"That's a little old fashioned," Reeva says.

Katniss hesitates. "It's soothing. And it helps pass the time."

"I always had the feeling that it was a little tedious," she says lightly. "But maybe that's because I can't stand sitting still."

Katniss feels a slow build of anger in her sternum, but it's dull and trembles - an embarrassed anger. It's one that she hasn't felt in a long time.

She thinks it's because she's intimidated by Reeva, and how she glows, and how she's certain that anyone will go along with whatever she says just because she's_ her._

Maybe Johanna had been right.

So Katniss gives a shrug. "I guess I can handle it better than you."

The she's a shadow flicker over Reeva's face, but it disappears as if it was never there. Then she laughs, as if Katniss had said something outrageously clever.

"Oh, I can handle a lot of things."

It's a hard, challenging statement. Katniss isn't sure if she can say anything decent back to it, but it turns out she doesn't have to.

"Reeva, cut it out," Gale says, giving her a look, and Katniss is so shocked at his sudden defense over her that she doesn't have the chance to be mad about it.

Reeva puffs out her chest, but backs down, keeping her posture straight and dignified while she keeps her mouth silent. She makes it seem like it was her decision first, somehow, and that Gale has nothing to do with it. She then crosses her legs while flipping her thick mane of hair behind her shoulder, acting as if nothing happened.

"You hunt with a bow, right?" Jack smoothly cuts in, after he stops looking at Reeva, sounding exaggeratedly interested. "You know, you should come train some while you're here." He leans forward. "I bet you could teach us a few new things that Gale can't."

"Hey," Gale calls over to them, but his tone is joking.

"I probably could," Katniss says, confidence in her tone. Jack grins widely.

"The only bad thing is that we start at 0530," Bolts says. "And I don't know about you, but my wife likes her beauty sleep in the mornings."

Katniss thinks about sleep, and is pretty sure she can live without it. She never feels like she gets any when the morning comes.

"I think I can manage," she answers.

"Great!" Jack whoops. "Your bowing skills are just about the only thing Gale's ever told us about you. It's made me want to see you in action, shooting things right through the eye no matter how fast the critter is movin'."

The statement pulls a light blush on her face. She tries and wills it away, instead focusing on the fact that that's what_ Gale_ told them about her. And that maybe she feels a little flattered, but she shouldn't.

"I miss sometimes," she says modestly.

"Whatever," Anton says. "From what we've heard, you're a goddess with a bow. Don't try to deny it."

At this, Katniss really can't contain her flush.

"Thank you," she says, looking down at the table.

Reeva clears her throat, and the attention of the men is diverted toward her impulsively. She gives a demure smile, placing her elbows on the table and leaning forward just enough to keep the men's stare right where she wants it – completely on her.

Katniss is pretty sure she's doing every tiny thing on purpose.

"So, Katniss," she says, acting like she doesn't notice the sudden attention she's getting. "Has Gale shown you the sights of the city?"

"Some," she says, already feeling uncomfortable under Reeva's burning stare. "Mostly downtown. I've only seen a little of the actual Capitol."

"Oh, downtown is my favorite!" she says in a delectable squeal. "Besides the bars, of course," she winks at Jack, who grins back in record time, "I_ love_ the atmosphere. Just walking down the streets gives me this _rush."_

Katniss looks on at her with exasperated eyes. All the energy she uses to speak makes Katniss feel poignantly tired.

"What's your favorite part?" Katniss isn't sure why she asks. But she thinks it's probably just to see if she'll continue to captivate her audience. She swears Jack's eyes are glued to every word, his face held up by his palm and his elbow probably leaving a dent in the wood.

"That's a hard question..." she says, tapping her lips with a fake nail. "Gale's showed me a lot of the sights that the place has to offer, and I enjoyed all of them."

"I bet he showed you some sights," Anton mumbles, though Katniss still hears it, and she's pretty sure that Reeva hears it too. Katniss bites her tongue to keep back her amusement.

"But there's this one place," Reeva continues steadfastly. "It was on the roof of that sweet shop down a few blocks from here," she says, looking at Gale. "It was almost sunset, and we were overlooking the Rocky Mountains with our ice cream cones, and we watched everything turn into beautiful oranges and purples. It was in the summer, I think, with the trees all bright and blooming with flowers." She shakes her head, and she nudges Gale's shoulder with hers. "I think that's my favorite place."

Katniss glances at Gale, who looks to be remembering too, whilst he drinks from his bottle of beer.

She wonders how...happy the memory was, and how long ago it was, because now Katniss is starting to see the cracks between them - ever since listening to Johanna, and believing her, they look a lot more distinct, now.

Reeva tries to find a hand hold on any part of him, while he acts standoffish and unaware of what she wants. There's a small space between them, but it seems as if Reeva's doing her best to close it, and Gale's doing his best to keep the space.

Katniss is slowly becoming aware of how much closer Gale is getting to her than he had been before.

"That sounds very nice," Katniss decides to say, looking over to Jack, who's eyes are glazed obliviously. "Don't you think so, Jack?" she asks deliberately.

At his name, he starts. "Wha- oh...oh, yeah, sure. Sounds like some sappy thing Gale might pull on a girl," he ends up getting out, clearing his throat and giving Katniss a challenging look, as if to say he's gonna get her back soon for trying to embarrass him. She smiles triumphantly.

"What can I say," Gale laughs. "I'm a romantic."

Katniss makes a face. "No you aren't."

Gale looks at her. "I'm not?"

"No..." she trails, and by the look he gives her, she feels like she said something wrong. "At least, you didn't use to be."

Gale seems to take this to heart, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "I guess I wasn't a very romantic teenager, was I?"

Katniss's mind takes a rapid, unwilling stroll down to the forest, and hunting, and laughing, and messing around in District 12, with him.

"Not with me," she answers, looking at the table.

"Now, that's a Gale I'd like to see," Bolts laughs heartily, as if something like that is completely unheard of. Gale smirks half-heartedly.

"Ha-Ha Bolts."

"I agree," Anton says, raising a hand.

Jack laughs. "Me too!"

Katniss smiles at all of them, and at Gale's defensive face as he tries to reestablish that he's not that flirtatious of a person; but when Katniss's eyes land on Reeva, her small smile vanishes in an instant. Reeva's pinning her with this terrible stare, one that's two parts deadly and one part murderous, and Katniss can almost feel shockwaves ripping through the air and into her face. She automatically feels like she's been slapped.

She blinks and looks away for a second, looking at the others only to find them too distracted to have noticed anything, then dares to look back at her, only to see Reeva smiling with Gale and the others, as if she hadn't been looking at Katniss at all. Katniss breathes in a couple times, reaching a hand up to her cheek, and thinking that she made it all up in her head. But the heat under her hand tells her otherwise, and she looks on at Reeva warily, for the rest of the time she's at the table, until she drags Gale away to go dance with her to the newly arrived band.

When Reeva leaves, Katniss immediately feels lighter.

A few minutes later, Anton goes to the bar to fetch Johanna, though she doesn't budge to his proposal to dance, instead opting to stay at the bar. Anton decides to stay there with her.

Bolts leaves soon after, as does Jack, and Katniss watches them go regrettably, wishing she could leave too. But she keeps her seat, and her new drink - a coke and rum, Bolts had bought her, which isn't that bad and not nearly as bitter as the stuff Haymitch buys - and watches and waits for Gale to finish dancing and for them to go back to the world of his apartment and eat dinner.

It's nearing 7:45 when she's able to hear them arguing. She glances away from people watching to the area Gale and Reeva went to, near the wall of the bar by the bathrooms. Reeva looks livid and...dangerous, while Gale tries to pacify her, eyes hard and determined. The sounds of their voices are distinct above the soft playing band, but their words are hazy, and she can only make out a few 'but's and 'I can't believe's.

Her interest peaks when Reeva stalks off, not even bothering to give Katniss one more lingering, spiteful glare, which Katniss, if she's honest, is forever thankful for.

She almost asks Gale what happened when he comes to escort her from the table, but he looks beaten and tired and grouchy, so she just finishes her coke-rum instead. If it's important, he'll tell her. If it's not, then she doesn't much care about it anyway.

Or, tells herself she doesn't. It's easier to be less interested when your thoughts lie to you.

* * *

a/n; anonymous review replies:

Mrs obsession: you might have, but that's always a compliment i'll gladly take. :) hahaha i hope you like this update.

anon: yeah, Gale and Reeva. i'll have them pan out more in later chapters, but i tried to show them more in this one. a strange pair, huh? ;) squad mates are a nice comic relief for them, too, i think. they need more happy. thanks, as always!~ (:


	11. hurt

a/n; sorry i didn't get to review reply to some of you. ffnet is being bitchy right now, and i wanted to get this chap out way earlier today. -_- but i thank you all, nonetheless!

chapter eleven - hurt

'where she walks, no flowers bloom  
he's the one i see right through  
she's the absinthe on my lips,  
the splinter in my fingertips,  
but who could do without you?' - birds of a feather, the civil wars

* * *

They don't talk for most of the trip back to his apartment. Once they get a taxi, she doesn't mind, watching the flickering lights outside the car window, enjoying the soft warmth in her stomach from her simple drink earlier and the cool cushions comforting her back. The hum from the car's engine adds to her heaviness, and she feels a dazed kind of sleepiness hitting her eyes with each passing streetlight.

Once they get out at the corner of his apartment, it surprises her how leaden her legs are as they trudge up the steps. By the time Gale unlocks the door and walks in, she stumbles over the threshold and into his back.

He looks over his shoulder at her.

"Didn't take you for being such a lightweight."

She frowns and steps away from him quickly. "I'm not."

He smirks at her. "One drink and you're barely standing."

"I'm tired!" she says loudly. "And I had more than one."

He raises a brow. "Really?"

She crosses her arms. "Bolts let me drink his, too."

"Whoa, two drinks!" he says. "I don't know if_ I_ could drink that much."

She narrows her eyes. "When did you become such a comedian?"

"Years of practice," he says, giving her a forced, cheeky grin. "But anyway, what do you want for dinner?" He turns to the kitchen. "Didn't realize it was so late."

She watches him disappear through the doorway. "I'm not that hungry."

He grunts. "Don't start that again."

"But I'm not."

He pokes his head back out, giving her a leveled look. "Were you being honest when you said you wanted to go train with us tomorrow morning?"

"Yes…"

"Then you're going to eat. So what do you want?"

They somehow decide on turkey sandwiches, though she can't remember ever mentioning anything about turkey.

She sits on the couch as he fixes them, leaning her head slowly on the armrest. It doesn't take long for her breathing to even out, and her eyes to go back to being as heavy as they were in the car. The coldness of the leather is a blessing through her clothes, and it's a perfect balance…

When Gale comes back into the room carrying the meager sandwiches on plates, he stops in front of the couch. She's fast asleep, with her legs tucked in near her chest and her braid hanging off the edge of the couch and into his carpet.

It reminds him of the first time he saw her, back in District 12. He can't believe that was a week ago.

But at least, he thinks, her face doesn't look as tight and restless as it had been before. Maybe it's a good sign.

It takes him a good five minutes to bring himself to wake her up. She looks too peaceful, but if all it takes is a couple of drinks to get her to look like this, then he makes up his mind to take her to bars more often.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," he says softly, nudging at her shoulder. She mumbles and moves away from him.

"I mean it," he says, pushing her a little harder. After a few long seconds, her eyes crack open slowly, eyebrows crinkling.

"What time is it?"

Gale shakes his head. "Eight-thirty."

Her eyes open a little wider and her voice is accusing. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"At night, Katniss. You've been asleep for five minutes."

She sits up, rubbing her forehead. "…oh," she says quietly.

He laughs at her a little, though he feels sad watching her continuous struggle with sleeping. He's sure she's just like him, sleeping forty-five minutes out of eight hours every night. He's learned how to live with it, but he knows that she hasn't.

He decides not to ask her about it, pushing her plate closer to her from the coffee table instead. He'll go one small step at a time.

"Just eat a few bites and you can head to bed."

She leans over and grabs the plate, going to groggily stand. "I'm going to eat in my room."

He figures that she feels more comfortable in the quiet space of her bedroom – since she's been eating and wholly living in there the past days. He pushes away the desire to persuade her to stay, if only to be able to watch and make sure she eats. But he thinks arguing with her while she's half-asleep is a bad idea.

So he lets her go to her room silently, and he eats alone.

* * *

Gale goes to the same place in dreams. The environment changes, with thickets and logs or dried weeds and a cracked bench in the middle of District 12. But he always starts at the entrance, like he's beginning on a journey all over again to somewhere that he's not sure about.

He walks and walks to that bench or that log, taking however long it does or however long it's supposed to. Lanes change and diverge, but they all lead to the middle, always faithful to his path.

When he finally takes his seat at the bench, Prim's always there, waiting patiently for him with her goat cheese from Lady and a fresh slice of baked bread. They're both so sharp in their aromas that he can taste them – truly – on his tongue and through his nose without even needing to touch them.

"Hey, Gale," she says, holding her presents.

"Hey, Prim," he says. He looks down at her and rubs at her head. "How you holding up?"

"Alright," she says, scuffing her worn shoes on the dirt beneath her feet. "Mom's still not acting right. Katniss told her to stay focused, but I don't think she takes any of that to heart."

Gale stares down at her, and he feels his face contort into a frown. He hates seeing Prim so lost without Katniss. She's always been dependent, in her way, sliding by with her meager offerings of smiles and shine toward everyone. But that usually didn't last, and Gale knew it might be coming to an end for her soon. If something happened…if Katniss died…

Gale reaches over to his belt, taking off his catch of the day. It's always there – either squirrel or rabbit or whatever else he can scrounge up – and it'll always be her portion. He will always provide for her, and it's not just for Katniss. It's because she's Prim, and he's known her for as long as he can remember, acquaintances first by shy smiles and small gifts of cheese, then friends by the bond that forms from being there – giving and receiving and sometimes, staying right there, right beside them when they need you most.

Then they're in Prim's house, huddling around the TV, watching how Katniss's life unfolds on the national broadcast. Whether she's in a tree or running from flaming balls hurdling at her entire body or fleeing from a boy with a knife or maybe not even that – maybe she's running for her life from someone's bare hands – whatever the case, Prim always seems to curl into his ribs, fingers acting like sewing needles, threading through his shirt and staying there until it gets very, very late and she falls asleep all tight and tense and twitching with something worse – with the horror of her imagination.

Gale has dreams where Katniss is hanging from a tree, all bloody and bruised and rotting – Prim's can't be any better. But he goes against his better judgment and hopes that she can see something a little less bleak.

They'll walk down to the Hob, every once in a while. She sometimes grasps at his pants leg, out of habit when there are large crowds gathering around them. Sometimes, he takes her hand and she grips it like a lifeline.

He'll never take her to the forest, though she asks and asks and asks. She's so persistent that he's close to giving in each time, but he'll shake her loose and set her on her way back home, making sure she knows that he needs to go alone. Because it's dangerous, and he doesn't want anything to happen to her. What would Katniss say when she comes back if she found scratches on Prim?

That's usually the question that gets her. What would Katniss say?

And they're sitting on the bench again, right in the middle of the District. But Prim's becoming this shadow, with fangs and parasites crawling out of her mouth.

"What would Katniss say, Gale? What would she say?" Prim asks. "She's in your house. She's in the other room. What would she say?"

Gale's confused. "What do you mean? What would she say, Prim?" He asks questions like nothing's wrong with her, like it's a feasible question in the midst of everything else.

But the worst thing is that he _has_ to know what Katniss would say.

Prim stares up at him with beady, blue eyes. She stares and stares and stares, and the bread is gone, along with the cheese, and there aren't any catches hanging off of his belt.

"Prim," he says, his voice rising. He reaches out and grips her arms, only to watch them fall to the ground, breaking into thousands of pieces, and spinning away like black sand. "What would she say?"

She smiles with her ugly face. She says, "You shouldn't go to the forest, Gale. It's dangerous. You'll get hurt. What would she say?"

"Prim!" he shouts, and his voice is getting more hysterical. He's not sure why. He feels himself sweating, and he's so hot, and his heart's beating through his ribcage. "Prim, stop, what do you mean – "

But she starts breaking wherever he touches her – her shoulders and pieces of her stomach. He shakes her a little, and her legs wobble off into nothing. Then all that's left is a head, lying on the bench, asking the same question over and over.

Gale stands up and grabs at his temples, her voice piercing his skull like a bullet, whistling through it like jelly, scalping him, one time, then two times, then three. He falls to his knees onto the dirt, and he starts screaming, but he can't hear himself over her screaming and her voice and her questions.

Then Gale wakes up. Sometimes it's four-thirty, sometimes it's two. Usually, he doesn't look at the clock. He chooses to stare up at the ceiling for a while, watching the one shade of darkness paint shapes onto the wall. He stews in his sweat until he can't take it, then he goes to the bathroom to rinse his face with cold water. Sometimes he changes out of his clothes into new ones, but he's learned that it'll just happen again, and again, so he throws his pants to the floor, and his shirt if he's wearing one, and he'll lay there until he has to get up and start the day.

It used to be frightening. He'd see night terrors after those nightmares – things would be moving around him in his room, but he wouldn't be able to distinguish what they were from the shadows. It's not as bad anymore. It's routine now, just like most other things he does, and that makes it bearable and okay. The worst thing that he feels after waking up is a certain kind of numbness – an apathy that creeps into him like an automatic mechanism to protect himself from his thoughts.

He's not grateful for it, but it works. And if it works, he's not one to complain about it.

When five o'clock rolls around, he swings out of his bed, throws on his workout shorts and t-shirt and shoes, before going out of his room to check on Katniss. He pushes the door in slowly, making sure not to let it squeak, not sure why he's being so careful if his whole intention is waking her up, anyway. But he keeps it up, going to her side and looking down at her. And she's really sleeping. Her breath is deep and balanced, loud enough to fill the silence of the whole room.

He hates that he promised to wake her. He almost talks himself out of his duty, almost turning out of the room to let her keep sleeping, until he makes himself think about the consequences. And though she'll just hate him more if he doesn't wake her, would it really add on to how much she already hates him?

He figures it wouldn't, but he shakes her before he can think about it more.

"Katniss, wake up."

She doesn't budge. He shakes her a little harder. "Katniss."

She moans, shifting around, and sleepily asking, "Peeta?"

He sighs. "Yeah, Peeta. Now, get up."

She blinks a few times, her eyes slowly focusing around Gale's form. She frowns at him when she realizes who he is. "Oh, sorry."

He tries to smile at her. "Do you want to still get up? You don't have to, you know – "

"Yes, I do," she says, though it takes her a bit to pull the covers off her. "I'm just…"

"Tired," he answers for her. "Yeah. Listen, I think you should probably stay – "

"No!" she says forcefully, though it's softened by her sleep slurs. "I'm going."

She pushes herself up on shocked legs, but he's surprised that she can still carry herself without stumbling around.

"Let me get dressed. I'll be fast."

He looks at her for a few more seconds before backing off and leaving the room, figuring that she can be her own worst enemy instead of him, for at least a few minutes.

* * *

"She made it!" Anton calls out once they arrive. All of the squad, sans Paylor, is gathered around each other in the field.

Katniss was a little surprised when Gale told her that they'd walk to get there, it being only a few minutes away from his apartment. They walked in the opposite direction of downtown, ending up in a fenced off field that contained some trees that made a trail around the plot. There are barracks just off the site of the field, housing the workers and temporary workers that are employed by Paylor. There are lights as well, turned on because of the darkness of the morning.

Gale used a card to get the fence door to open, sliding it through a lock and signaling a green light to shine for a second. Gale said it was because it was technically a government owned property, and they had to secure it, even though it was just a field.

"You thought I wasn't?" Katniss asks, both her and Gale stopping a few feet in front of the squad.

"We were just excited," Jack responds, floating over to Katniss's side. "You're kind of like one of those things all of us hears about but never sees."

Katniss raises a questioning eyebrow, stepping a foot away from him. "Like what?"

"Like…" he thinks, pondering the air in front of him. "A dinosaur."

"Stop being stupid, Jack," Johanna says, though she's smiling. "You act like you've never seen a girl before."

"I know you know you think it's true," he answers back quickly, and Gale shoves him further away from her.

"Where's Paylor, anyway?" Gale says, changing the subject and glancing around. "She's usually the first one here."

Bolts gives a bump of his head toward the direction behind Gale. "Speak of the devil."

Katniss looks up to see Paylor crossing the field, jogging over to them wearing shorts and a ragged looking t-shirt, her hair dangling over her shoulders.

Anton bows as she nears. "O, the mighty one has arrived."

"Sorry I'm late," she says, stopping to pull her hair back quickly with a hair tie, ignoring Anton. "Alarm clock didn't go off."

She looks – well, looked – a lot younger with her hair down. How old is she, again? Katniss thinks. Thirties? Forties?

"Katniss is joining us!" Jack preens a second later, grasping her shoulders. "That cool, Paylor?"

Paylor glances over to her, surprise clearly labeling her features. "Katniss?" She turns her stare to Gale. "This is all your doing, isn't it?"

He crosses his arms. "Actually," he starts.

"It was mine!" Jack says jubilantly, shaking Katniss.

Paylor's eyes narrow, looking her over. She doesn't seem the least impressed. "You think you can make five miles?"

Katniss swallows inaudibly. She used to make five miles easy. Now, though…? She's not so sure.

"Of course," she says, anyway, trying to make herself taller.

But Paylor sees right through her. She turns to Gale. "Stay with her and make sure she doesn't hurt herself." Then she claps her hands together and tells everyone to set off, starting a light jog down the field and heading down the thin, dirt path. The rest of the squad follows after her, though Jack trails behind, glancing at Katniss's irritated face. He gives her a smile and calls out that he'll see her on the other side.

She sighs, hoping that'll be true.

Gale starts out slow for her, and he tells her they can take breaks whenever she needs them. The pace they're going makes them lose sight of the others after a small amount of time, though Gale doesn't seem particularly worried about it, leading a few, lazy inches ahead of her in the semi-darkness. The light from the lamps filter through the leaves and trees, though it makes the atmosphere a bit hazy.

The first mile passes better than she anticipates, her breathing becoming only slightly ragged. By the end of the second, she's winded enough to think about having to breathe, and once they break through the last step of the third mile, she starts stumbling and has to stop, her stomach feeling nauseous and her limbs shaky and weak.

Gale stops beside her, and she hates how he doesn't seem the least affected by the run, his chest leisurely inhaling as if they had gone on a pleasant stroll.

"Hey, let's sit down for a second," he says, going toward a tree and sitting, leaning his back against it.

"No," she huffs, glaring down at him. "I'm fine."

"Trust me," he says, putting his head against the bark. "You're not doing yourself any favors by making yourself stand up. Just relax for a few minutes and you'll feel a lot better."

She stubbornly stands for a minute longer until the attraction of sitting down is too much. She loudly falls back into the grass, stretching her arms out to her sides and closing her eyes. The air, when not pounding into her throat, is cool and calming and not as sharp as it seemed to be when they were running. She groans and presses the back of her hand to her forehead, feeling her veins pulsing through her skull. She can feel her blood move through her whole body, from her calves to her gums. Even her teeth pound from the force, and it's embarrassing how much three miles of running affects her now. She used to run all day in the forest catching game, learning her way around, and sometimes getting lost. Maybe she took being in shape for granted. Then again, she hasn't cared about her health, specifically, for a long time.

But feeling her blood all over – it's a rush. Her limbs tingle and her sides burn while her heart stutters quick and rhythmically. Her throat's parched and she swallows reflexively, trying to regain control. But she finds that she kind of likes it. She likes the way it all feels, all these things adding up and making her head feel feather-light and weightless. It feels like it has wings and could fly away any moment.

When she opens her eyes again, Gale's watching her with an unreadable expression on his face, his mouth turned into a pondering line. His eyes seem to glow in the shadows of the trees, the light filtering through the trees from the outside making them more pronounced.

"What?" she manages to ask.

He turns his head away from her after a second, glancing further down the path. "Nothing," he says. Then he stands up, wiping off his shorts distractedly. "Think you're ready to finish?"

Once they get back to the open field, everyone has already started gathering and setting out their equipment from one of the barracks. Most of it consists of different types of weights – kettle bells, weighted bars, and free weights.

The sight almost makes Katniss fall over in fatigue.

"Today's weightlifting," Gale answers once he sees the look on her face. "It's really not that bad. I'll pick out the weights you should use."

She stares at his back dubiously as he makes his way over to the group, going through the selections and putting weights and bars to the side for her. She slowly follows him, and once Jack sees her, he hollers and asks her how she's doing. She makes some kind of noise and he laughs at her, pushing her shoulder and telling her how he knew she'd make it.

Anton grins over to her once she stands by all the weights Gale gives her.

"We're not gonna kill you, you know," he calls over.

Johanna snorts. "Yeah. It's not going to be like that boot camp shit we went through during the war."

Katniss thinks back to her run she just finished and running back with Johanna, and thinks that all of them are liars.

"Alright," she answers, anyway.

Yet, surprisingly, the lifting isn't bad at all – except for the squats and the lunges and arm work and who is she kidding - it's awful.

Katniss's arms shake as she throws the bar down into the grass, the force causing it to bounce before settling in a small dent in the dirt. She crumples to the ground, leaning her elbows on her knees and breathing is as much air as she can.

She's pretty sure they're all laughing at her, though she can only barely hear the snickering above her. And she doesn't dare look up. She knows that if she does, someone will die.

Jack is the first one to make his way over to her, predictably, reaching out to touch her shoulder and say something consoling, but Katniss hisses out a few words before he can say anything.

"Don't even think about it, Jack."

Her voice comes out extremely acidic, and she can sense him recoil. Then she hears a few snorts.

"The Mockingjay has spoken, Jack," Bolts says in the background. "I'd think it'd be best to leave her alone."

She hears them move around her after a while of sitting there, until she finally hears a pair of shoes stand right by her. She guesses it's Gale, just by the fact that he might be the only one brave enough to actually talk to her.

She peeks out of the cavern in between her legs, glancing up at his figure. He's got a deliberate smirk on his face, and she glares, hoping to melt it away or decapitate his head all together.

"What?" she grunts.

His smirk widens as he holds out his hand. "Peace offering?" He shakes the bottle. "It'll make you feel better."

She eyes the bottle of what looks like orange juice, and her throat convulsively swallows. She reaches out and yanks it from him, taking a few much needed gulps before saying, "I won't guarantee peace, but thanks, I guess."

He shrugs. "I'll take it." He takes a seat next to her, and it's then that she looks around and sees all the equipment put away back into the side barrack. The rest of the group is slowly filtering out of the door to the barrack, and she can faintly hear their voices. "So, I guess you won't want to come back, huh?"

She blinks over to him, narrowing her eyes. "Of course I'm coming back."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," she says, a dignified edge entering her voice. "It'll only get easier if I keep coming back."

His eyes change at her conviction, shining a little bit at her. "Jack and Anton will be happy to hear that."

She drinks half the bottle and immediately regrets it, a hand impulsively going to hold her stomach. "So you're not happy about it?"

He gives her another unreadable look, and she absently wonders why she asked.

He ends up shrugging and says, "I never said that." And that's all he gives for an answer. Katniss grimaces at him and slowly finishes her juice.

It doesn't take long for the squad to start leaving. Johanna is the first one to walk away from them, making her way to the gate. Gale notices this, and stands up, telling Katniss he'll be right back, and jogs over to reach her before she leaves. Katniss watches in semi-interest as Gale gets her attention, then leads her away toward the beginning of the forest.

Katniss doesn't have long to wonder about what they might be doing. Jack and Anton come over and pull her up from the ground, chatting about how she'll have to come back on Thursday and show them how to use a bow and how they need to meet up at the bar again tonight, among other things. But she's too distracted by looking at the forest to completely take in what they're saying.

* * *

"Gale…" Johanna starts, looking at him hard. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says quickly. "Just…you think we went too hard on her?"

She gives him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? That was the easiest workout in months."

"You know what I mean."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Don't go soft just because of her."

He glares. "I'm not. I just don't want to scare her off."

"Where would she go?" She throws up her hands. "Back to doing nothing in 12? I highly doubt that."

"She has Peeta, you know," he says.

"Then why's she here anyway?" she asks, leaning forward. "Isn't he supposed to be some kind of saint, now? Taking care of her and making sure nothing harmful comes her way?"

Gale sighs, then explains to her the gist of what happened back on his trip home, leaving out the unnecessary parts including Peeta. Johanna seems to contemplate this intently, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at his words.

"Obviously, she can't just_ leave_."

"The decision is ultimately up to her."

"No," Johanna says, shaking her head furiously. "You can't believe she'd just up and leave when she's supposed to be…what is it? 'Finding herself'?" she says, using quotations. "Besides, I'm pretty sure she's starting to trust you a little."

Gale snorts.

"I'm serious," she grounds out. "People can trust one another but not like them. I trust you, and I don't like you that much. Perfect example."

"But that's different," he sighs down at her.

"How?" she says, punctuating her word with a pull of her head. "I have to see you almost every day, even if I don't want to, and sometimes I have to go with you out to other Districts or on little clean-up missions without being able to give my input or telling Paylor what _I_ want." She jabs a finger at his chest hard enough to make him place a foot behind him for balance. "She hardly listens. She barely gives a damn. She only cares that we get the job done, and that's how I see it now, too. Even if you don't like who you're doing it with. Isn't that the same between you two? Just some prolonged mission, learning how to deal with each other, and then getting it finished as quick as you can?"

Her points are sharp and refreshing, and they don't disappoint. Gale's pretty sure that's why he likes Johanna so much – her advice might not be intended, but it's always blunt and to the point. It's why he respects her. He can go to her, ask a stupid question, and she'll be able to put him in his place no matter what the cost. Besides, it takes a lot to hurt his feelings nowadays.

"Yeah…sure," he says, crossing his arms. "It's…exactly like that. But – "

She sighs loudly. "But what?" Her eyes change as fast as she said the words, mouth quirking down and her brows furrowing. "Don't tell me she's not over her _little sister_."

Gale sneers at the way she says it. "No. She's not."

"Boo-fucking-hoo," she drawls, muttering it with contempt. "What? And she still blames you for it?"

Gale's sneer becomes more pronounced. "Wouldn't you? Don't you still hate Snow even though he's dead?"

Her face changes, and she starts getting angry. "Now _that's_ completely different."

Gale scoffs. "No, it's not. It's exactly the same."

"No," she almost shouts, placing her face closer to his. "It's not. Snow made me do things for him – and then he killed everyone that was ever close to me, even though I did every fucking thing he told me to. He deceived me and made me believe that I could save them. But it turned out that their only crime was being close to me," she snarls. "He made them die because I _existed_. Because he _could._ What have you done to_ her_?" She jabs at his chest again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "Be her friend? Love her? What a crime against humanity!" she says, throwing her head back and laughing darkly, causing a flock of birds to dart out of the trees. "And she can't even see past what? Her grief? Her resolution that she can blame you because you live while Prim doesn't?"

Gale hates that he's making her remember those terrible things in her past. She's only talked about it to him once, and probably even less to anyone else. But he has to use it – maybe just for peace of mind. And that's exactly what she does – telling him the things he knows he feels, somewhere, six feet under the guilt that has been plaguing the foremost space on his mind.

"Besides, all you did was create a bomb. Just _one_ bomb. There were thousands more of them in a shed somewhere underground, and Coin just happened to pick out yours because of the _design_. Maybe because it looked cooler than the rest."

He steps forward, looking down at her. "It was a mistake to have made that," he says quietly. "And I know I can't do anything about it but regret. But – "

But Katniss will never believe it. She will always connect seeing him to death, and there's nothing he can do to break that connection.

Maybe he just needs someone to tell him that, point-blank, close enough to rip through a bullet-proof vest. Then he'll be able to move on. That's all he needs.

Just a reality check, and he'll be able to let it go and not care about it so much.

"But it happened, and dwelling on it won't change a single thing," Johanna finishes for him. She steps back. "You know, I was starting to think that you were fine. I thought you weren't bothered anymore." She seems a little disappointed, and it surprisingly stings. All her barbs never do anything, but a slight deviation from those bitter, hateful words, and she's got him all tangled up in sadness.

"How long is it supposed to take to get over it?" she asks, cynically, crossing her arms and looking off to the side.

Gale's always known _she _was never able to get over it. That goes without saying. Her personality tells everyone everything there is to know about her, if one looked at her long enough, with all her jabs and anger to protect herself. And Gale wishes he could show her that he _did_ get over it, just so she could try to get over it herself. Or, at least, try to make the haunting go away.

But the fact is that she'll continue on, disappointed, and he'll go on partially broken.

So he laughs and says, "You tell me, Johanna."

They're both quiet a long time, lost in different thoughts. Gale looks at her, watching as her face keeps a grimace on her lips, kicking a stray rock away from her toward the trunk of a nearby tree, and thinks about what she said.

"Well," she says, after a long pause, giving a shrug. "At least I can beat you up when I need to."

She starts to walk past him, but he stops her by grabbing her arm.

"Hey…" he says, making eye contact with her. "I'm sorry. For having you talk about…" He shakes his head. "I just needed that."

She smirks at him. "Of course you did. _Big baby."_

At this, his eyes glint and he brings her into him for a hug, knowing it'll be like torture to her. She grunts and struggles against him, pushing her elbows into his abdomen, and he wheezes out a small laugh.

"Damn it, Gale, let me go."

"You know, it's not very ladylike to be so vulgar – "

"Oh, I'll show you ladylike…" she mutters, before she gives one last struggle and he relents, letting her out of his grasp.

She tries to fix her mussed up hair, still slightly damp from her sweat. She tamps it down with her palm, looking irritated, walking around the few trees they talked behind, finding her way out to the open again. Gale follows her, a crooked smile on his face.

"Maybe you should show Anton your ladylike manners instead of me," he says.

She groans. "Ugh, not you, too. I started to _trust_ you. I swear to God, if I hear one more comment about me and Anton…"

* * *

Katniss wonders if it was a good idea, following them into the trees.

Paylor had called Anton and Jack away to talk to them about some squad job she had for them to do that day, much to their displeasure. And being alone, staring at the trees, the curiosity Gale and Johanna left behind was too great to pass up. So she found a spot where she heard their voices and deftly, though shakily, climbed a tree, laying against a branch, and listened.

But now they're gone, and she's staring at the myriads of wilting leaves surrounding her, not quite sure what to think.

It's not like she never thought about what Gale had felt about it – the bomb, specifically, or the death of Prim. But she had been angry at the world for a long time, and she ended up not caring about what he thought. And then years passed, and she didn't think about him as much as she used to. She didn't care what he did or where he was. Her thoughts were usually only occupied with Peeta or Prim or the forest. She guesses she became neutral about him, over time.

But seeing him again, just a few feet away from her that day, reminded her of all the buried anger she still had, dwelling inside her. Not seeing him had compressed what she had felt – but his sudden appearance had brought it all rushing to the surface. It was instantaneous, uncontrollable.

It calmed down over the week that he was in 12 – and it hadn't festered like she thought it would, having to be near him all the time for who knew how long.

It's…kind of stagnant. There's still friction between them, but it isn't the most prominent thing that she feels. She feels uncomfortable, sure, out of place, but when she repels all the feelings, it isn't so bad.

Once she sees that they're out of earshot, she jumps down from the tree, her legs screaming their surrender as her feet impact with the ground. She bites her tongue and fights the sensation off, leaning back and sitting on the ground and massaging her thighs with her forefinger and thumb.

She's going to be _so sore_ tomorrow.

A minute later, she hears a rustle to the left of her and looks up to see Gale slipping through the trees.

"There you are," he says, his scowl fading into a look of relief. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she says, pushing herself back onto her wobbly legs. Her massaging didn't seem to do very good.

He notices her trying to find better balance on her feet, but he stays where he is. "What were you doing in here, anyway?"

"Um…" she says, wracking her brain to find something that doesn't seem too much like a lie. "I just wanted to relax in here before we left."

He opens his mouth, then closes it, walking a few steps closer to her. "Sure you can walk?"

She stands a little straighter at his words. "Yes, I can walk." She strides forward several steps before she stumbles over a bundle of brush on the ground, losing her footing and heading face first to the dirt of the trail.

Gale grips her wrist before anything terrible happens, pulling her back to a stable footing.

"Are you positive?" he asks, and there's a ghost of a smile on his lips.

She scowls harshly at him, yanking her arm back to her side. Without saying a word, she walks ahead of him, face turned toward the ground and scanning it with her eyes, making sure there's no fatal dent or pothole that might be the death of her.

She tries to ignore the feeling swelling up in her skin, the lingering heat on her wrist from his hand. It slowly dissipates through the rest of her arm, leaving the rest of her body chilly. And cold, and hollow.

And she knows, right then, that maybe she's always hated herself more than she hates him. He's only a scapegoat, and perhaps he's always been someone to readily place the blame on because -

Because Prim is gone – because she couldn't protect her. Because she wasn't there, for her. Because she put Panem first and Prim second.

And she won't ever forgive herself for that.

* * *

a/n; i'll try my best from my memory for the anonymous! i'm sorry if i miss you. but know that i love you!~

anon: OMG. it WAS you. what a slut. you just want them to have SEX.  
;D

Lina: thank you so much! hope you liked this one. :)


	12. doubts

a/n; i graduate saturday (yay!), so...yeah. i just wanted to tell all of you. i'd send out announcements to you, but that'd be weird, and i'd only do it to guilt you into giving me graduation money.

and i have to give a big thanks to all you reviewers. you've given this story more reviews than i've ever received. you know how awesome that is? do you?

a huge shout-out to **srslyjulia**, for nominating me for the _Galeniss Awards_, even though this story has barely any hints of Galeniss so far (70K words in already? -_- your patience makes me weep happy tears). i thank you from the bottom of my heart. you're amazing! this chapter is for youuuuu~

chapter twelve - doubts

'She said I want to believe  
That we can laugh  
But I know that it's tough when you're lost in the leaves  
And I'm in no rush  
But if we try to unite then we might just turn back into dust  
It's only natural for us' - summer dust, the love language

* * *

Katniss doesn't know how she makes the walk back to the apartment, but once they reach the living room, she collapses onto the soft cushions of the couch. They don't feel as firm as they used to, but that's probably just her skewed senses. Anything besides the ground feels heavenly.

"You want to take a shower first, or should I?" he asks, sitting on the edge of the love seat.

The question sounds daunting. She's on the verge of falling to sleep as it is. A shower…she might blackout in the shower. And then Gale would be the only one to come get her…

She shudders at the horrific thought, and shakes her head, willing it to go away. Then she notices him looking at her with a funny expression, and she realizes that she's still shaking her head.

"Um…you should probably take it first…" she says. "I take long showers."

Lie number two, she counts subconsciously. Her showers have shortened exponentially over the years. But she might actually be truthful, with how sluggish her body is acting.

"Alright," he says, and he disappears into the hallway. She soon hears the water system turn on and the pipes shudder in the walls.

The sound, while not the most conventional lullaby, is still incredibly soothing. And the next thing she knows, she's being woken up by a Gale wearing dress pants and a towel around his shoulders and nothing else.

She blinks up at him and squints, failing at avoiding the sight of his chest.

"Um…" she says. "Huh?"

"The shower's open," he says, tilting his head in the direction of the bathroom. "You have enough energy, or do I have to wash you?"

The sentence makes her blanch, and he gives a forced chuckle.

"I'm _joking._"

She gives him a nasty look and does her best to stand, rubbing at her face and sleep-induced eyes, slowly making her way to the shower.

It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Gale guesses he knew it was going to happen eventually. But just not so soon.

Well…maybe five years wouldn't be considered soon by some people but…

He definitely didn't remember her looking…she never had so many…

She had been sweating, and her cheeks were red, and what was up with that white shirt she always seemed to be wearing? It definitely doesn't have any better merits than, say, a black shirt.

And he doesn't have any right to think about her that way. Just…

Maybe he forgot she's a girl –

No, that isn't it at all. He definitely knows that.

He guesses he forgot how pretty he thought she was –

No. She's not really pretty. He's got to stop thinking these things, these ridiculous thoughts. It's hard enough with her here as it is, he can't possibly afford to complicate it more by thinking about …

He's got Reeva. Reeva. And he's seen her naked more times than he can count – and she has it all. Perfect curves, perfect breasts, perfect shape. So why is he fantasizing –

He hears the shower running as he forces the buttons through their holes on his blue shirt. He growls frustrated, running a rough hand through his still dampened hair.

He never wants to take her on a workout ever again.

Ever.

He forces himself out of the room and away from the seductive sound of running water to the kitchen, and tries to take his mind off of things by making a cold, damp breakfast of cereal.

* * *

The day passes much like the one before, with papers shuffling around, shrieking, way-too-happy visits from Miranda with her bright green bows and even greener eye shadow, and a few phone calls. Those are brief and end with deafening clicks into the phone's cradle.

Every time he does it, it jerks her to attention, before she realizes that there's nothing to be attentive to.

She's taken up a curled up position on one of his guest's chairs, reveling in the dictatorial security of its cushions. She might not have liked it yesterday, but she's quickly learning the virtues of overstuffed leather.

The day would probably be boring, were it not for theworkout she had that morning. Gale makes some attempts throughout the day to get her up and do things, even once shoving a paper about importing rice into District 2 and precautionary measures in case the shipment went wrong.

Her eyes went cross-eyed after reading the first few lines. He grabbed the paper from her and shook his head at her. "You're hopeless," he says.

"Well if I didn't have to run five miles this morning…"

He half-smiles at her, taking his seat and getting back to work.

After lunch – which is actually very filling – no doubt from Gale picking out her meal since he made her save their seats. It wasn't necessary, though she thought he had a secondary agenda by demanding she sit. But since it was today, and today was exhausting, she didn't complain as much as she usually did.

He came back with a tray full of a sample from each area of the cafeteria. And, almost shamefully, she had no trouble finishing it.

When she looked down at her stomach as she sat in the chair, she frowned down at the small protrusion that she couldn't keep in. Thinking about it, she hasn't been so comfortably full in a long time.

It was probably the bread he got for her – homemade rolls. They're her favorite. But the cafeteria rolls have nothing on Peeta's.

Her stomach gurgled unhappily at the thought of him. It's only been five days, but she misses him. She misses him a lot. She hasn't been without him for more than a day, at the most, and the absence of his company is a little startling. There's this void that permeates around Gale's apartment sometimes, and it lingers, if only for a while.

But it isn't..._unbearable_. She can handle it. But it _is_ uncomfortable.

"Listen," Gale says eventually, scooting the stacks of papers to the end of his desk. "I've got to go out to District 4 tomorrow morning. I have to meet with some of the distributors up there."

Katniss blinks over to him. "Do I have to go with you?"

"Preferably, yes," he says, avoiding her gaze. "Either that or you spend some quality time with Paylor."

The thought instantly makes her recoil, and – though she doesn't care about his company very much – thinking about replacing him with Paylor is a little nerve-wracking.

Just something…something about Paylor. Maybe it's the way she acts toward Katniss that has her all defensive. But ever since she came to the Capitol, Paylor has treated her with nothing more than cold indifference. She isn't sure why. Was there a specific reason for it? Had she offended her sometime during the war? She didn't know Paylor enough to know if she liked to hold grudges but perhaps that's how Paylor has to act toward most people she knows.

To be a president, you can't trust everybody. Maybe Paylor doesn't even trust her anymore.

"I'll go," she says.

"Good." He pushes himself into his chair. "We leave tomorrow morning. We won't get there until about ten or eleven. The train service will provide breakfast. And once we arrive, I'll have to…leave you alone for a while."

She raises a brow at him. "Oh?"

"Yes…" he says. "But we can figure that out later."

Instead of the taxi taking them back to the downtown highway, they take unfamiliar turns into the city. They pass high-rising buildings, dome-shaped, intimidating architecture, and rich, golden arcs. The city looks different up close than from afar. Everything blends into something magnificent from far away. Up close, there's a lot to take in. Each building has a separate design, some with metallic awnings above the windows, or glassy, mirrored panels covering buildings whole. Some doors spin or open automatically, slipping into the ground or raising high above.

Many of the women remind her of Miranda and Effie, she thinks, her image fluttering swiftly through her mind like a punch. It's been a long time since Effie had been in contact with her. Where could she have gone? Was she still even around here, anywhere? It's hard to think of her finding a home anywhere else. She had the fashion down pat. Katniss always kind of admired her for that, after she got over how each outfit stung her eyes from the vibrancy.

The men are different than the women. Many wear suits, or dress shirts – like Gale – though in patterned colors and designs, some with colors she's sure she's never seen before in her entire life. Some of their hair is artificial, too. The cuts are outlandish, but sleek and stylishly outgoing. She uninhibitedly stares at a few, unable to look away. One has black-rimmed glasses, wearing a powder blue tuxedo, and she's almost certain there's a type of lip gloss on his mouth. His hair is slicked up with gel, making the illusion that it's longer on the top than it is on the bottom. And his face looks too perfect – like it's been manufactured and implanted.

Glancing at the others walking around the sidewalks, not many seem to be so encompassed with their looks. Their fashion is still blown out of proportion, but several look severely normal compared to the manufactured man from before.

She peers over to Gale, who's digging his cell phone out of his pocket. He's rolled up the sleeves on his shirt up to his elbows sometime during the day, with the shirt a bit wrinkled around the edges. His hair is air dried, though it falls in its own certain way. He's got this cowlick that pops out a few of his bangs from the shortness of it, hitting his brow.

He types in a few numbers into his phone, places it up to his ear, and greets Paylor on the other end, his elbow resting on the frame of the door beside him as he glances out of the window.

He looks like he's one of those refined businessmen she sees walking out of the skyscrapers they pass. If she didn't know better, and she saw him walk out of one of those same buildings, she might never know he was any different.

Except there's something normal about him. He doesn't look like he's from here. It could be the tint of his skin or the determination of his eyes, or maybe it's just how he carries himself differently from all the others, seeming to be like mannequins walking around on the streets. He looks like he knows what he's doing, while most of the people around them are running around and scuttling from place to place, as if they're lost or aren't sure of what they want to do next.

It's funny how she's certain she likes riding in a plain taxi with him than she would walking out there with strangers, all by herself.

Gale tells Paylor that he'll be gone all day tomorrow, and he'll likely be back Thursday afternoon. She says something that makes Gale scowl, but Katniss can't quite make out what it is. Then he laughs and tells her not to miss him too much.

They pull into a parking lot a minute later, and she looks out and sees a large building, with a large sign hovering above it, the words spelling out _The Secret Garden_.

"A restaurant?"

"Dinner," he affirms. "Homemade meals can get boring, don't you think?"

She almost disagrees, until she realizes that she hasn't really ate out before...ever. Except for the cafe he had taken her to.

But she's never ate at a restaurant, or in a place that looks so fancy and expensive.

"This place..."she starts, glancing at the glass doors and the lion statues surrounding them warily.

"It's nice," he answers. "I think you'll like it." He looks over at her as they walk to the restaurant, and he opens the door for her before they reach it. "They've got lamb stew."

At this, her tongue immediately perks up, and her inhibitions settle back down. She's too distracted by her thoughts to be annoyed at his chivalrous actions.

"Okay."

The inside is robust, gleaming with silk-threaded carpet and hand-carved tables with sharp corners and molded lines of vines and flora on the edges of the wood.

The chairs are wooden, but plush, as it seems all chairs are in the Capitol, no matter where she goes. They're strong and dark, and the lighting in the place magnifies the color of the chair and the tables. It's dim enough to be soothing, but not so much to be half-blind.

The hostess smiles automatically, then it brightens when she takes sight of Gale. She walks them to a table by a long, rectangular window, overlooking what Katniss guesses is the 'secret garden' outside. Green is the most prominent color, but there are many flowers, all spinning together in a weave of color, with vines peaking down from the rooftop of the restaurant. There's a fountain in the middle, water perpetually running.

She has to stare at it for a few moments before a menu is set in front her.

She glances at it before opening it. She looks up to him. "We could have gone somewhere downtown."

Gale flips open his menu, glancing at her over the top of it. His eyes, in this lighting, have the same type of glowing glint they had in the forest this morning. She looks away from him and skims the choices, trying to find the lamb stew.

"I thought we could go somewhere in town. Do something different."

Katniss tries not to look at the prices. Most of them hardly account for the items in the meal. A salad costs a fortune.

"It's expensive," she decides to say.

"Price isn't a problem."

Her face twitches. "How much does Paylor pay you?"

"Enough."

She narrows her eyes. "Why don't you want to say?"

"Because she pays me more than she has to."

She glances toward the hostess up at the entrance podium, only to see her glancing furtively back to Gale.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me she likes you, too."

Gale doesn't notice her looking to the hostess. In fact, he didn't really notice her to begin with. "Paylor?" he almost laughs. "No. I've been trying to get her to like me for years."

"Purposely?"

Gale gives a small smile. "Not in the way you think. I mean respect."

"You don't think she does?"

"If she does, it's because she feels obligated to. I want her to like me because she decides to."

He gives her this look as he says it, like she's missing something. She glances back to the entrees on the menu, ignoring it.

"Maybe she will, one day."

"Yeah," he says, his voice doubtful. "Maybe."

They order as soon as the waiter arrives (and Katniss is thankful that it's a man, this time). Katniss looks back out the window, the small lanterns hanging around the the walls starting to light as the darker night descends.

"Beautiful, huh?" he says, following her gaze.

She thinks about the question, eyes roving over the glowing vegetation. "Yes," she says.

Then her eyes catch onto her reflection in the window. She must look completely and utterly foreign to everyone in the vicinity. Her braid's loose from being curled up in that office chair, and her shirt's a little rumpled, and she finds that she _cares_ that she looks a little disheveled and unrefined compared to the other people around. It's unsettling that she feels this way. Wasn't she debating how ridiculous people looked in the taxi? But she does find herself wanting to look a little more tidied up. She guesses it's her womanly instincts, gauging the looks of other women and then gauging herself at the same time.

All the women here make themselves seem pretty. Each hostess and waitress and secretary she's seen has been, at the very least, _beautiful. __  
_

Even Johanna had been wearing mascara that night at the bar.

She unconsciously starts to run her fingers over her braid.

"How're you feeling?" he asks after a while.

"Better," she says. "Less tired than earlier."

"You haven't moved much all day."

"I don't think I could have even if I wanted to."

Gale stirs at his tea, watching the ice cubes catch the light from the lamp overhead.

"I shouldn't have made you run so far," he says.

"I think it was the weights that got me more than the run."

"Sorry," he says, having the grace to look sheepish. "I guess I thought you were stronger than you were."

Katniss feels the words hit like an insult, though she makes sure it doesn't show on her face. He doesn't mean it in the way she thinks it can, and that's probably because she's been hearing his and Johanna's conversation in her mind all day. As she stared at him doing paperwork, in the quiet of the office, and in the silence they periodically had throughout the day.

_Don't tell me she's not over her _little sister.

"It'll be easier next time," she says tightly, staring at the glossy wood.

He looks at her for a while, and she can't quite keep the eye contact.

A few moments pass before he takes in a breath, as if he's about to ask her something, before he's interrupted by the waiter, placing their food on front of them.

Katniss's nostrils fill with the rich, delicateness of the plums and the warm scent of the lamb makes its way down her throat and to her stomach. She can't believe how long it's been since she's had this - Peeta and her had never really made it...maybe because the memories were in a time before all the bad things happened. Maybe he had wanted to protect it from her so much that he avoided everything in their past.

She...never noticed. How long had Peeta been trying to protect her from the memories? Besides, it should be a light one, happier than the rest, remembering their time bonding in a cave together - even if she hadn't loved him yet, and even if she wasn't sure he'd survive. But they'd lived, hadn't they?

Though, maybe, both of them were too bruised to care about those memories. Peeta still had a hard time figuring out memories by himself. Perhaps he was too ashamed that he couldn't believe it fully by himself.

Katniss frowns deeply down at the stew, but nothing changes how delicious it is. Not even the remembrance of the time she first had it - on that train that almost lead to her death. But the taste is vicious and hearty against her tongue, and it's fighting against all the dulled senses inside her.

And if she closes her eyes, she can almost taste the potential inside the broth - how it sparks against the roof of her mouth and runs smooth all the way down to her belly. It's almost as good as she used to think it was.

"Like it?" Gale asks, breaking her out of her thoughts.

She really thinks about her answer again. "Yeah...I do."

"Good," he smiles slightly, taking a bite out of his meal - he had gotten a steak, along with some vegetables. The meat looks tender and juicy, with the vegetables accompanying it, shimmering with seasoning in the lighting, not letting the meat outshine them.

She almost asks him the same question, but decides not to. It's hard to not like steak.

"Katniss," he says eventually, placing his knife onto the edge of his plate, fingering his fork with his other hand.

"I want to talk about something." She's surprised at his tone. It's a little anxious, hidden underneath a layer of determination. It's funny how she can still pick up those subtle things, years later.

"What?" she asks slowly.

"I've been wanting to talk about Prim," he says, his voice even. Katniss darts her eyes back to her bowl. "We've both been avoiding it ever since...if I'm honest, ever since the war. And I'm a little tired of it."

"What do you want me to say about it?" she asks, hating how small her voice is. "She's dead."

"You can't tell me there isn't anything you've wanted to tell me. There's no way -"

She swallows deeply, the warmth of the meal leaving her. "No. There's nothing I want to say to you."

His back becomes more rigid. "So, hating me is the only thing you've really wanted to say to my face?"

She blinks up to him, keeping his stare. "Yes."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe it," she says. "Because there's nothing I'm going to tell you."

He looks down at his half-eaten food, both arms surrounding the plate, both hands rounded into fists.

"It's been five years, Katniss," he says, thickly. "Vick thinks I've been avoiding you. My whole family thinks I'm a coward for never coming to reconcile with you. Do you believe that, too? That I'm a coward?"

His look is deeply earnest, and she knows that he wants a true answer.

She stares at his right fist. If he's...if he's a coward, working in the heart of everything that used to be the epitome of wrong, what does that make her?

"No," she says quietly.

His eyes search her, as if trying to find the lie hidden in her words. He doesn't seem to find one.

"Everyone else does."

"Maybe because they haven't done anything to feel cowardly about."

He takes a breath, eyes narrowing in thought, the lighting above flickering against them. They're a deep, quicksilver, his eyes. "Remember when we were friends?"

The little sentence brings a cascade of memories. It's hard to fight them off, mostly because he's looking at her so intently, priming her mind for them. They all glance over her eyes, a thicket of emotions and trials and trust. Her, tiptoeing around rocks and aiming for a rabbit while he whispers that she should try to take down the deer further along.

"Yes," she says.

Then he glances away, scowling. "I do, too." He smiles without humor. "Weren't we best friends?"

The question chills her. His voice goads her to shudder.

"Once," she answers.

"Once" he repeats with an angered tinge. "You know, you were the only person I told everything to."

His words aren't mean or vicious - he reigns it in, his voice steadily even against her ears, neutral, but chilling all the same.

"You used to be mine, too. But that was before - "

"The Games. I know," he says. "Maybe I just can't understand why one tragedy could completely demolish what we had."

She bites her lip, and for some reason, she feels a dark heat behind her eyes. She blinks quickly, forcing it to disappear, though her eyes stay on his face.

"It wasn't just one thing," she says. "It wasn't just - Prim - it was multiple things...it was the whole war."

It's amazing how steady her voice remains, despite the inner turmoil raging inside her. She feels it thrumming in her stomach, up to her chest like heartburn. Gale looks up to her, then looks away, glancing at another couple at a different table, his eyes miles away.

"Sorry I was so caught up in wanting to protect you," he says finally, eyes briefly sharpening. "I guess we both lost something during the war."

She almost starts crying, right then, looking at his profile, and remembering all the times she got so mad at him for what he wanted to do, when his mind and her mind disagreed about strategy, about the Nut, about the morality of choices. She remembers that singular moment when the Peacekeepers took him away, into that tilted house, him screaming at her to kill him, to kill him and let everything end.

And how she couldn't do it.

And how, if given the chance, she's still not sure if she could, after all this time.

She hears one of her tears plunk into her stew, breaking the deafened silence between them. She wipes quickly at her eyes and face, and he looks back down to the table, as if he knew what she was thinking, as if he was thinking about all the same things.

As the silence settles, her throat grows tough and thick with her thoughts. What else could either of them say?

They make it back to the apartment in a fatal quiet. Katniss doesn't care much about breaking it, and neither does Gale. She sightlessly watches the lights on the buildings, then the streetlamps, repelling the upset feelings warring inside her with hollowing herself. It's become her default – it's easy enough to erase emotions away and act like they're gone. It's a little more difficult with him so near - it almost feels like he's keeping her from protecting herself, making her vulnerable and uncertain.

Her lungs cleanse when she steps out of the taxi, the warm, stifling air dispersing into the coldness of the night. They walk up to his apartment with a wide berth of distance, keeping at least three feet between them at all times. They shimmy around the apartment, both trying to head to their bedrooms, and both stuttering in their steps when they both almost run into each other in their haste.

Katniss glowers at him, and he gives her room to make her way through the hallway. Before she makes it half-way to her door, he speaks up.

"Katniss," he says, his voice seeming loud in the quiet. Her feet stop against her better judgment.

"I know it's hard to talk about, but…"

Her stomach lurches. "Of course it's hard to talk about. I don't even like thinking about it," she whispers sharply.

She can feel his eyes on her back. "You can't go on by ignoring it. You've got to face it, and soon, or else you'll never get over it."

She turns on her heel, her mouth curling into grimace. "Like you're any better? I might not think you're a coward, but you're damn close, Gale."

He pushes his shoulder into the wall and leans against it. "Well, you're here in my apartment now, aren't you?"

Her heartbeat flickers, and she glares. "You didn't even want me here in the first place! It wasn't even your idea – "

Something passes over his eyes. "I never said I didn't want you here."

"Could have fooled me," she snaps.

"What I _did_ say is that people won't want you here. You could be a target. That's what I said, and I meant it," he says firmly, his tone turning to steel.

Her mouth forms a hard line, and she stares at him for a while, the feet between them not seeming like enough distance.

"Why did you agree with him?" she asks, hating how quiet her voice had become. "With Peeta?"

Gale shifts at Peeta's name, eyes flickering with uncertainty for the first time since they had gotten back.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

She visibly flinches.

"Answer my question," she breathes out, and she hates how her voice trembles.

"There was a reason," he says, bulldozing her breath with his own. "We made a promise that you couldn't keep. But there must have been a reason."

Her mind runs over that memory again, crisp and clear, the edges of it hurting her brain. She was never able to forget that memory - the force of the decision was too great. She wonders what they did to him in that house, if they tortured him or cut up his back again, or… anything else. Unimaginable things.

"I agreed with Peeta," he continues, once she makes no offer to speak. "Because I didn't want what he said to be true."

Her eyes immediately scrunch up in a frown. "What did he tell you?" She steps forward, her fists clenching. "Did he tell you how I'm messed up? How I'm not a real person, anymore?"

Gale stares at her intently again, as if he's watching her closely, scanning for something. Something that might not even be there.

The thought makes her crazy. What's he looking for? What does she need?

She steps forward again. "What did he say? What did he say to you?"

Gale turns his eyes toward the wall beside him. "He wants you to live. He says you're not…you're not finished mourning, and he's scared he won't be able to make you any better."

They've talked about it, her and Peeta. They talked about how this would be a good experience for her, to get her out of the house and to see the world Prim would have wanted to see, would have wanted her to see, but –

He never told her he was worried. He didn't tell her he feared she _wouldn't_ get better, that _he_ wouldn't be able to help her, that _he_ didn't think he'd be everything that could help her –

He was afraid and he sent her –

"To you." The shock from his words and her thoughts hold back her tears. She feels them, that dark heat swelling in the back of her eyes. "How could he have thought you could help?"

It's so hard, knowing that Peeta might not think she could get better. That he might not be everything she needs. That he didn't send her just to see the Capitol, but to see_ Gale._

He swallows. "He didn't. But we agreed. If you were like he said you were, then I wanted to help. Even if you don't think I – "

"No," she almost shouts, walking a few steps forward. "I don't believe you. I don't believe for a second that you're doing this because you want to."

_Besides, I'm pretty sure she's starting to trust you a little._

He straightens at her proximity. "I think you don't _want_ to believe me," he says boldly, looking down at her. "I think you want to hate me as much as you can for as long as you can – "

She silences him with a punch right on his jaw. Breath flies out of his mouth, along with a few droplets of blood from his lip.

_It was a mistake to have made that. And I know I can't do anything about it but regret -_

She hates his sincerity, and how he thinks he knows her, as if the knowledge of each other from their previous_ friendship_ was accurate. But that's over now. It's over and it won't come back – she won't let it because –

...because, should she let it? What would happen, if she did? If they became friends? Would either of them even be the same people they were before? She isn't even sure she remembers what she was like before everything that happened.

A smile conquers the side of his face. "Did I hit a nerve?"

"You didn't hit anything," she whispers, the vowels harsh against the walls of the hallway. She turns on her heel, swiftly striding into her bedroom and slamming the door shut. She falls back onto her bed, stares at the ceiling, and has to fight even harder against the dark heat in the back of her eyes.

She can't cry – she really can't cry over how they unraveled, how they're so screwed up now, how she still can't look at him in the eye most of the time, how Peeta – how Peeta doesn't think he's good enough.

She plunges the heel of her hand as far as she can into her eyes, willing the tears to disappear.

* * *

She jumps awake at the rapid knocks on her door. She glances down at herself, still wearing the same clothes she had the previous night. She must have fallen asleep, though she can't remember.

She's relieved to find her feelings from last night blunt and dulled over. It's not completely hollow, yet, but it's better.

"Grab a few changes of clothing. We leave at six-thirty," Gale says through the door, then she hears his fading footsteps.

She glances at the clock, reading a quarter til five. Her eyes get blurry, and she has to rub the sleep off them. She stumbles off her bed and grabs a few of her clothes from her bag – she never took the time out to place them into the closet, or the dresser. Then she puts them back, deciding to take the rest that she had with them to District 4.

She pushes the door into the bathroom, only to stop short when Gale comes in at the same time. They look at each other for a second – she notices his eyes look a lot like hers feel – before Gale sighs and backs up back through the doorway.

"Knew I should have woken you up later."

She watches him leave with a soured look on her face. Once the door closes, she walks forward to the closed door and pushes in the lock, hoping it's loud enough for him to hear. Then she starts the shower.

It's strange boarding a train that isn't taking her anywhere toward imminent danger. But it's as decorated as she remembers it, all sleek lines and large separate compartments. There's a table in the middle compartment, the one that's reserved just for them, and it holds all kinds of breakfast foods from pancakes to custards and tarts. Some look more like hearty desserts than actual things to eat in the early morning.

She places her bag next to the seat she takes, eyes roaming around the dark blue painted walls and the red carpeting. It's still too dark to see through the windows, and the lights inside the train reflect the interior onto them.

Gale sits on a seat on the other side of the compartment, the seats facing each other. He's packed even lighter than she did, with one small sack at his side. He starts rummaging into his jacket pocket, taking out something that looks like a black square.

"I bought this a few days back," he says, clearing his throat. "I put all contacts you'd need in there, in case something happens when I'm not around. And in case you want to call Peeta. I put his number there, too."

He crosses the aisle between them, holding the phone out for her. She hesitantly takes it, staring at it in her hand.

"A phone?" she asks, watching the light from the ceiling of the train make it glimmer. The shine makes it look posh – and expensive.

She can't help but wonder again how much Paylor pays him.

"I thought it'd be a good idea," he says. "I meant to give it to you earlier, but there wasn't a reason you needed it until today."

She looks up at him, creasing her brow. "When did you buy it?"

He shrugs. "Saturday. When you made sure I knew you weren't…ready."

The crease turns into a frown. "You've had it that long? Why didn't you give it to me?"

"Like I said, you didn't need it," he says, crossing his arms. "And, by the way, you're welcome. I didn't_ have_ to buy it."

She glances at it a while longer, avoiding his eyes fingering the phone and roving her hand over the screen. She reluctantly mumbles her thanks, messing with buttons and having no idea how to use it.

Gale stands there, crossing his arms and watching her with faint amusement. He lets her struggle for a while, until taking a seat near her.

"I'll show you how to use it," he says, holding his palm open.

She looks up to him, and he's encouraged by how she doesn't flinch, looking at him. She places the phone into his hand.

He smiles. "Alright, so you'll mostly be using the contact list…"

It doesn't take him long to explain the basics of cell phone using and management. It's so basic, Katniss almost feels embarrassed at the simplicity of it, and that she let him show her. He tells her about how to call someone, how to input numbers – though she won't need to since the numbers are already preset. He tells her how to send text messages, and how to type the letters in for the message. It can also take pictures and send them to other people with phones like hers. The ability shouldn't surprise her, but it does.

She practices sending him a few texts. She watches as her _Hello_ shows up in a light on his screen and his _Hi_ shows up on hers.

"How'd you get Peeta's number?" she asks once they stop the lesson.

At this, Gale rubs a hand through his hair, and he looks away. "I went through a few phone files."

"Phone files?"

"They contain the phone numbers of people throughout Panem," he says.

"Oh…" she says, glancing at him. He still avoids her gaze.

It's funny, he thinks, how many times he looked up her own phone number, with it all dialed into his phone, his thumb poised and ready to call her -

She fiddles with the phone in her hands for a little bit, until a thought strikes her.

"Can I call Peeta?"

He looks back to her at the question, raising his brow. "You can do whatever you want."

She grips her phone, stands, and makes her way across the compartment toward the bathrooms. Once she's inside, she taps the contact list and easily finds Peeta's name. She puts the receiver up to her ear, suddenly anxious as she hears the ringer on the other end. She's not even sure if he'll answer. Hardly ever does anyone call their house, much less –

"Hello?" he says, his voice running through her ear.

"Peeta," she breathes, feeling a bout of relief rush through her.

"Katniss?" he says, his voice edging into panic. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

She laughs lightly, shaking her head. "No. Of course not."

"Good," he huffs.

"Gale bought me a phone. I wanted to call you."

"A phone?"

"Yeah, just in case. I think he got it if I wander off." Or do something stupid, her mind thinks. She can't really argue with it that well.

"Good idea," Peeta says, and she can almost hear his smile. "Tell him thanks from me."

Katniss doesn't want to give Gale two thank you's in the span of twenty minutes, but she decides not to mention that to Peeta.

Instead, Katniss tells him what she's done during the days she's been gone, her workout of horror, the squad mates and Johanna, and going to Gale's work. She avoids telling him about the other things, the ones that haven't been as pretty and nice – like the arguments or the conversations they've been having that inevitably turn sour. She'd rather talk about safe things with him, since she hasn't heard his voice in a while, and how it's so easy to forget its timbre after only a few days. And if she's honest, she doesn't want to face the ugly things with him - the reasons he didn't tell her, the things he kept to himself for either his sake or hers - because it's easier not to. Because it's nice to talk to him as if nothing's wrong, and she doesn't want to face the answers in a bathroom on a train over a phone.

Peeta tells her about the bakery. He tells her about the people around town, keeps her updated on the things they tell him when they're in his shop. It's what usually happens. The people that go to the bakery are more comfortable talking to him than they are to a lot of other people. Instead of family, they go to another friendly face. Peeta's great about not judging anyone, and once his reputation got around, more and more people started to come. The bakery's almost like a bar, now, using yeast for bread instead of beer.

He tells her that Hazelle's been coming more frequently as well, talking to him more than she has in the times previous.

"I think something's bothering her," he says. "But she hasn't mentioned anything. I don't want to pry, though…"

"It'd probably better to let her tell you on her own," Katniss says quietly. If she's anything like her son, then that route would probably be less destructive.

Katniss forgets how early in the morning it is after a while, Peeta only giving it away from a yawn. She reluctantly lets him go, and even though he refuses, his voice is thick with sleep and dreams.

"I'll talk to you soon," he says with a promise.

Her hand squeezes the phone. "Okay."

Once she walks back into the compartment, Gale's sitting back on the other side of the aisle, the seat he had taken up earlier beside her surprisingly bare. She takes the seat, and though her ear still tingles from the sensation of talking to Peeta and knowing he's alright – being away from him for so long, she started to become unnecessarily worried – she feels all alone in her spot.

Her eyes flick up to Gale, only to see him resting his head back on the headrest of the seat, eyes closed, and possibly sleeping.

She turns her eyes back to her phone.

She wonders if it's because of those feelings, still lingering, from the night before.

* * *

When dawn breaks inside the train windows, Katniss is able to see the scenery, the subtle changes in the trees and the cliff faces, the hills metamorphosing from steep and craggy to sloping and smooth. She never noticed the change from the ride to the Capitol those years ago, but there wasn't a reason she could remember that would have made her want to look. Now, though, the windows are large and open, almost inviting her eyes to look beyond into the vast threads of grass and vegetation. Sometimes, she can see animals in the distant pastures, sometimes deer jumping and running over brush or rabbits hiding away from the rumble of the train.

But then the glimpses will be gone, shielded by layers of dark trees and skinny branches. Autumn doesn't seem to touch several trees, or the pastures - they're still ripe and deep green. She absently wonders how far away District 4 is, and if seasons even touch the place.

Gale points outside and explains things to her when they're not surrounded by cliffs or firs. He tells her what Districts they're in, what towns they pass through to get there. Perhaps not so surprisingly, District 4 is relatively close to the Capitol. Half the ride, they're in District 4, Gale tells her, and her eyes grow wide at the prospect, eying the outside even closer. The only reason it's taking so long is because the place Gale has to go is in a region further south in the District.

Once the ocean comes into view, it doesn't leave. It glistens sharply and punctures the window with sudden glares from the sun, and Katniss has to squint most of the time she looks at it. But it's hard to turn her head away. She hasn't seen something so magnificent, or large, or unbelievably unending in her entire life.

"That's the Pacific Ocean," Gale tells her. "It travels up the entire coastline."

"When does it end?"

"Until it reaches another country," he answers. "But Panem's been independent for a long time. We haven't made contact with another country for years."

They ride along the coast long enough for the smell of salt and brine to seep through into the compartment. It's biting, but amazingly refreshing, and her nose perks up at the sudden difference.

They soon pass into a seafaring town - Katniss can tell from the docks and the ships and boats, the masts cutting at the sky like white knives. It isn't as urban as the other places they've passed through - a lot of their buildings are wooden, and they look hand crafted in the way that no building looks quite the same as the one next to it. She sees people at a distance, and a road full of shops, some with doors open, and others with booths set out and fish lying upraised from the ground in bundles. Several places take up the sight, and they make a circle of places people can buy from. It almost reminds her of the old Hob in a way, except with more choices and livelier clothing and faces.

There are so many colors here. That's something she immediately notices. People are walking pastels, soft rainbows hitting her eyes like snow - they aren't sharp and eager for attention like the Capitol. They don't bite at her, and they don't make her feel uncomfortable.

She thinks she might like this place.

* * *

a/n; anonymous review replies:

anon: haha, i would definitely ease Gale's pain if he wasn't fictional. dammit. and yes, finally some movement toward kat/gale. i didn't know it'd take me so long to do. (hopefully in like, less than ten chapters (haha), i'll get some smut in here, or something. they need sexytimes.) ;)


	13. district 4

a/n; uh, 15 reviews last chapter? yeah, that's pretty awesome. you guys treat me like royalty, as usual. And uh, didnt realize i didnt know how to write Annie until i wrote myself into writing Annie. Fffffuuuuuuu -

chapter thirteen - district 4

well, i don't know where we're going,  
but i know where we've been  
i've been tracing all your footsteps  
i've been counting all your sins  
A ticking bomb, a false alarm, a wrecking ball...  
you left before i had the chance to say - taking back sunday, call me in the morning

* * *

The train station is crowded when they get out of their compartment, several people waiting for their chance to get on while several step off along with them. The sun is bright – brighter here than in the Capitol. There's less clouds here, the sky almost unblemished with any stray white markings, whereas the Capitol's sky is just the opposite, the sky reeking with a solemn gray and few openings of sun.

The smell hits her nose first, then the clatter and noise of the square hits her ears. It's lively and bustling everywhere she looks, from the people moving from market to market to the clashing of the waves of the sea against the sand of the shore and the squawking of gulls off in the distance.

It all looks the same to Gale – whenever he comes here, the people's energy never seem to have dulled over the months absent. It's still as sunny and gorgeous as it always is, the smell of fish and sand cutting through the breezes.

He glances to Katniss, and has to stare at how wide her eyes are, how she's taking everything in. She seems to be fascinated with the place, eyes scaling the buildings and the people and the sight of the ocean off to their right.

They walk slowly, almost aimlessly for a while, and she realizes this after a few minutes, darting her eyes to him. He gives her a smile, and she looks away.

"What?"

"You," he says. "Really like this place?"

"It seems nice," she says after a pause.

He looks to his watch, thinking for a second. "I'll show you around once I get out of my meeting, if you want," he offers. "I have to show you where we're staying for tonight."

She looks at him with a critical eye. "Where are we staying?"

He waves. "You'll see."

She sighs, but she follows him as he leads her through the square and down a few streets. It's surprising how quickly the scene changes. One minute, people are everywhere, and the next, it becomes much less dense, the buildings separating and scattering further and further apart from each other. The street turns into sidewalks, with sand surrounding them, and the ocean gets closer and closer into her line of vision.

She realizes, a little late, that they're in a neighborhood. Each of the houses are larger than the rest they've passed, upraised on the sand enough in case of high tides or storms, she guesses.

They turn to one of the houses, and Gale leisurely walks up onto the porch. Katniss walks slowly behind him, peering around at the shapes of the windows and their curtains that block her view of the inside.

Gale knocks on the door, and they hear a shuffling on the inside, then a twist of the handle, the door opening up to a girl with dark hair, her look a little wild, but strikingly beautiful, a small boy grasping her calf as he looks out to the people outside.

At first, Katniss thinks, of course, another girl friend, until the girl's crystal eyes land on hers. They dig a little deep into her skin, seeing things, Katniss knows, that many people don't have the ability to see.

Gale smiles wide toward her, and she smiles back.

"Gale," she says warmly. "It's been so long since you've come to visit us." She walks forward and gives him a small hug. She turns and nods to Katniss.

"It's good to see you," Gale says in return.

"Gale!" exclaims the little boy, unlatching from her and bounding into Gale's leg. Gale grins and rubs at the boy's hair.

Katniss stares at them in surprise.

"Hey, Finn."

"And Katniss," she says, her eyes roving over her in that piercing way. "It's been even longer."

Katniss looks at her, blinking, feeling both struck and shocked. "Annie," she says. "I – I didn't know you lived here."

She smiles softly. "District 4 has always been my home. Our home," she corrects, looking over to the little boy. "Finnie?"

He looks up to her from his perch on Gale's leg.

"I want you to meet Katniss," Annie says, gesturing to her. "Katniss, this is my darling, little Finnick."

Finnick's eyes are unnaturally large, their color as tangibly blue as the sky. They really do remind her of Finnick's eyes – they pull up memories of him, the ones she had hastily buried under her grief for Prim. His hair is flaxen blonde, as if bleached from swimming in the ocean or staying out in the sun. Katniss absently wonders if Annie has taken him out to learn how to swim – he's so small and looks so fragile that she thinks it's unlikely Annie would even let him outdoors.

"Hi," he says softly, staring up at her. Katniss takes a tentative step towards him, but she stops when he action makes him grip Gale tighter.

"Hi, Finn – " she says, breaking off. It's funny how her voice cracks a little – her hand quickly moves up to her chest. She clears her throat. "Finnick."

The boy only stares at her curiously.

"Please," Annie says after a moment. "Come in. I'll show you around."

Gale gently pries Finnick away from his leg, and he scuttles after his mom. Gale looks to her and gestures for her to walk through the doorway. She turns to walk in, passing by him, and stops, a sudden rush of thoughts that she wants to ask him – like when did him and Annie become friends or why did little Finnick seem so close to him or different ones, completely different thoughts – like had Finnick lived here, in this house, if only for a few days?

He was walking right behind her, her sudden stop making him almost jolt into her back. She looks over to him, her vision obscured by his shirt, and she decides that she doesn't have to have the answers right away. Maybe, if she gets the nerve, she'll ask him later.

"Oh, sorry," she says, then quickly follows Annie and Finnick into the entry foyer.

Gale quirks a brow at the back of her head, but dismisses her behavior. No telling what she's thinking.

Annie's house is just like the rest of District 4 – exactly the way he remembers it. There's wooden paneling along the walls, the entry painted a bluish white, the furniture close together, but the style distinctly District 4. They give off a homey feeling, the trinkets standing proudly on the shelves off on the side wall, the pictures of boats and the sea framed above the chairs. They walk into the living room off from the foyer, with a large opening doorway into the kitchen. There's a hallway connecting from the living room and the kitchen into the bedrooms and a bathroom, one obviously a guest room by the smell of the undisturbed air when Annie opens the door.

This is the room Gale usually takes, though he's not quite sure if Katniss will take it or not.

"You can leave your things in here, Katniss, if you want to. Jacob and Nate are out at sea," Annie says, opening up a door across the hall. "You can take Jacob's, Gale."

It's convenient that they aren't here – though Gale feels a flare of worry over how she's able to handle being alone for slightly long periods of time. The last time he stayed with Annie, she seemed to be alright – she didn't have any episodes, she didn't act as if her mind was bothering her. But he couldn't help but wonder if she was okay with only her and Finnick, taking care of each other. Even though her swings, as her brother called them, were few and far between after Finnick was born, it didn't make him worry any less.

"That'll be great, Annie," he says, depositing his bag onto the bed in Jacob's room. "When will they be back?"

"Oh, not for another week or two," she answers distractedly as Finnick tries to tug her out of the hallway. "They're trying to bring in a big haul – maybe crab and lobster if they're lucky."

Gale nods. "I hope they're able to get some. Lobster sells for a fortune."

"Yes," Annie smiles, placing her hand on top of Finnick's head. "And it's one of Finnie's favorite dishes. Isn't that right?"

Finnick nods ecstatically.

"Spoiling him early, huh?" Gale asks good-naturedly.

"It's the only thing I'm good at," she says.

They walk into the living room again, when Katniss speaks up.

"Who's Jacob…and Nate?" she asks.

Annie looks over to her, smiling. "Oh, Jacob's my brother. Nate's his best friend. He usually stays here with us whenever he wants to."

"Oh," Katniss says. "Well, thank you. For letting me stay, I mean. I know this is kind of sudden – "

Annie shakes her head, though her stare is unsettling. "You don't have to thank me. I had a feeling Gale would bring you here someday."

Katniss doesn't know what to say to this, though Gale rubs the back of his neck and smiles at her. "Oh, Annie. You and your psychic abilities."

She shrugs. "I can't help what I feel."

Finnick grasps at Gale's hand, suddenly, trying to pull him away from the girls. "Gale, I have to show you my new spot! There's this giant rock down on the shore on the other side of the neighborhood – "

Gale sighs, glancing at his watch again. "I can't today, Finn. I have to go to a meeting in a few minutes," he says, regrettably. Then he glances over to Katniss, and weighs his words a little when he says, "Why don't you take Katniss, instead? She's never been here before."

Finnick makes a face, trying to discreetly glance at Katniss, but failing. "But…she's a girl," he whispers loudly, his words sounding pointed and deliberate.

Gale laughs slightly. "She doesn't have cooties. At least, I'm pretty sure she doesn't." He glances over to her amusedly, and Katniss quirks her face at him.

Finnick still looks skeptical.

"Besides, I don't think it'd be a good idea to take her with me. You'll have to stay here, Katniss," Gale says.

Katniss is surprised by how she feels at that statement. Even if it was still…strange…between them, she's been getting used to following him around and letting him show her new places and new things. Glancing toward Annie, she isn't certain if she'd be completely comfortable being alone with her and Finnick and her green-blue swirling eyes.

"Okay," Katniss says, instead, looking for the entire world cool and composed. "Would it be alright if I explored the town a little?"

Gale shifts, looks to Annie, while Annie only smiles.

"I do need some stuff from in town if you're interested in going shopping, Katniss," Annie says. "We could accompany you, if you'd like. But the town isn't very big."

"My meeting should only last an hour or two, if everything goes well. If you're still up for a tour when I get out," Gale concedes lightly. "I can call you once I'm finished."

She looks between them, feeling a little overwhelmed by their generous options. "Um…can you go into town with me, Annie?" she asks after a second. "But I'm not good with knowing much about fish."

Annie gives her a small smile. "Of course I can. We can show you around, right Finnie?"

Finnick avoids the question by ducking his head.

They all walk out of the house together, Gale parting ways with them at the square. They stay left while he goes right, the area having taller, more intimidating buildings.

"See you guys at lunch," he says as he walks away.

Finnick waves exuberantly while he trails after Annie. Katniss watches Gale's back for a second before following them.

"First we need some spices…" Annie says, glancing over her handwritten list she's holding. "Where should we go for spices, Finnie?"

He immediately answers, "The corner store!"

"That's right, sweetie," Annie smiles, turning to Katniss. "The stores on this side usually only sell the herbs and spices and the vegetables. The stands over there sell the fish. But we'll buy them last."

It's surprisingly easy being around Annie. They don't talk much – Katniss is afraid of what to say or what to talk about…Annie had always been around Finnick back then, still crazy and bursting out with her episodes every once in a while. But some people stop to talk to her, like patrons in aisles or the ones manning the counters. It seems Annie knows several people.

Little Finnick talks enough for the both of them – he fills in the silent spaces, and for that, Katniss is grateful. After asking him a few questions herself – what are these vegetables for? Do you like cooking? – Finnick hesitantly answers her questions, before jetting off into some other topic after he realizes that talking to her won't give him any types of diseases.

He's a sweet boy. Katniss can't help but smile as she watches him grab vegetables Annie lists off and places them into her basket, diligently talking about the different shells he found on the beach, the weird man that they give their money to at the counter of the store, when Jacob taught him to fish, about that scary jungle place at the end of the beach…

Katniss's ears perk up at that. "Jungle?"

Annie shakes her head. "It's not exactly a jungle. It's kind of swampy, but the vegetation's gone wild. Gale will show you if you ask him. He goes there when he visits."

Katniss makes a mental note to remind her to ask him once he gets back.

"I've never been there. Gale won't take me."

"As well he shouldn't," Annie says automatically, glancing at a stand containing a variety of bell peppers. "Hm, I wonder if these would go well with that sauce…"

"I don't know why I can't," Finnick complains, touching everything he sees as they pass by them. "I'm strong, and tough, just like Jacob and Gale. It's just a jungle."

Annie cuts her eyes at him. "Finnie."

"Don't you think I'm strong, ma?"

Annie sighs. "Yes, you're strong. But you'll be even stronger when you're older. Maybe Jacob will take you in a few years, okay?"

Katniss is almost positive she can detect the lie in her voice. Finnick, however, brightens exponentially, placing random vegetables into her basket. Annie watches him, face a little tight, and lets him buy things they don't need.

Annie stays back while Finnick runs up to another stand, busying himself with examining tomatoes, eyes roving back and forth from the green ones to the red ones and back again.

Katniss walks to catch up to him, but Annie stops her by talking.

"I wish he could see him, you know."

Katniss looks at her, scared that she'll have an episode right here, right here in the middle of the market – and what would Katniss do? She has no idea how to console her, no idea how to make her feel better –

But nothing happens. Annie gives a sad, watery smile, and her eyes remain focused on her son. "He reminds me of him more and more every day."

Katniss steps toward her, uncertain. Finnick's death had been buried inside her, left untouched like an unopened package. But the emotion from Annie rushes to the forefront, and Katniss has to blink it away. She swallows. "I'm…Finnick would be very proud of him."

"He's what's kept me sane," she continues, her eyes far away. Katniss isn't even sure if Annie heard her. "Without him, I don't think…" her face crumples, but she pulls it together after a few seconds, exhaling a large sigh. Then she smiles.

"Finnie!" she calls out, her voice and all traces of memory gone, as quick as a flash. "Let's go get the fish now. That's all that's left that we need."

They make it back to the house after almost two hours. Katniss can't believe how much time they spent just in the one square, though they're carrying many more bags than they should – Katniss can't remember half of what they bought, though the slimy smell of raw fish curls up from the bag and into her face the whole walk back to Annie's house. Katniss isn't sure if Annie gave her the bag on purpose, or if it was just an unfortunate chance happening. She thinks the former, no matter how oblivious Annie seems to be about it.

Once they arrive, Annie quickly sets up shop in her kitchen, haphazardly setting out a few cutting boards and some vegetables, placing out two different types of fish – cod and halibut, if Katniss remembers correctly, though they only differ slightly – while putting the rest away. Katniss notices Annie's crazed cooking style right away, what with her placing spices all around the counter, putting the pan on a high burner before getting anything started, then staring at all the things she placed out, her fingers of one hand on her chin while the other hand is placed on her hip, eyes contemplating the items in front of her, as if she's not quite sure why she bought them.

The fish, while waiting to be cooked, stare at Katniss with their dark, glassy eyes, mouths agape in what looks like a silent plea to not be eaten. She shudders and has to look away.

"What are ya gonna make, ma?" Finnick asks, staring at all the ingredients with widened eyes.

"Well…" she mumbles, setting things into sections. "There's lemon…and thyme I could use for a marinade…or a sauce…but I could make a salad with the bell peppers and sear the fish on the side…"

Annie looks up. "Any ideas, Katniss?"

As much as she's watched Peeta cook, and the rare times she actually cooked with him, there's nothing that comes to her mind about any fish recipes.

"Sorry, I don't," Katniss replies, taking a seat on a stool in front of the bar, watching Annie separate her ideas across the span of her counter, going from one section to the other.

Annie keeps mumbling, suddenly settling on cutting up the lemon, smashing her garlic into some type of paste, and tearing the thyme up, mixing them together with lemon juice and oil. She moves around, grabbing a pot, and fills it up with water before placing it on the stove. She turns the burner on high.

Then she goes and grabs a few potatoes from the bags, hustling to peel them. Katniss sits up and gets off the stool.

"I can peel those, if you want me to."

"Oh, please do!" she says, shoving the potato she was working on into her hand. Then she grabs another and grabs a second peeler – though Katniss isn't sure why she would have two peelers, if she's always the one cooking – and quickly skins the one in her hand. Then she starts another before Katniss is barely half-way through with hers.

Once they have four potatoes done, Annie stops her and dices them, and dumps them into the pot of the now boiling water. Katniss follows her lead with her own potatoes.

Then she fillets one of the fishes on the cutting board, cleanly pulling off sections of the fish's belly and rubbing it down with the lemon-oil sauce. Then she slaps them onto the pan, the sizzling abrupt and immediately fighting the quiet of the house.

Finnick watches with rapt attention, eyes moving with every move his mother makes. Katniss smiles at him as he stands on his tip-toes to make sure he doesn't miss a thing.

The filets cook quick, but Annie somehow manages to drain the potatoes and mash them while taking care of the fish at the same time. It makes Katniss dizzy just watching. She goes to try to help, but Annie pushes her back into her seat.

"I don't want you to burn yourself!" she says, even though the fish are simmering in their oil harmlessly. Katniss places her chin into her palm and sighs uselessly.

When Gale gets back to the house, he's worn out. The distributors always wanting more than they can have - it's nothing surprising, though he was hoping it would be a more agreeable discussion. This winter will have low productivity if this autumn is any indication, and District 4 is much more well off than the other Districts. Their technology might be slightly out of date compared to, say, the Capitol, but it isn't a priority.

Gale rubs his eyes as he walks through the foyer, delicious smells lightly grazing his nose and becoming more distinct as he makes his way further into the house. His stomach growls at the smell of garlic and lemon, and the headache pinching his brain starts to dissolve at the prospect of a warm meal.

He walks into the kitchen, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorjamb.

"Looks good, Annie."

Both of them look up, Annie's glance content as she sets out the dishes. Katniss only looks startled at his appearance.

"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to scare you."

She sniffs indignantly. "You didn't."

"Yes, you did," Annie almost sings, fixing portions of potato and fish on a plate. She grabs a smaller plate for Finnick, who's stubbornly trying to grab it, persistently saying that he can get his own food. Annie tuts at him.

Katniss gives Annie a look that she misses, as she fusses with Finnick.

Gale hides a smile, making his way over to his plate, and rolling his shoulder. Katniss gets off her stool and makes her way to her own plate, glancing at him.

"How's your shoulder?"

The question stops him mid-grab for his fish. He looks down to her. "Fine, last time I checked."

She raises a brow. "When was the last time you checked?"

"Yesterday," he says, shaking his head. "Don't worry 'bout it."

She almost looks affronted. "I _wasn't_ worrying about it."

He drops his fish onto his plate and hands her the tongs. "Sounds like you were."

She wrenches the tongs away from him. "I think you were _hoping_ I was."

Gale rolls his eyes at her, scoffing a laugh. He's only teasing. It's funny how defensive she gets over her more sympathetic emotions. She looks as if her cheeks will start giving off steam.

"I'm only kidding," he tells her.

She glares at him, but it isn't as severe as the one she gave him the night before. He backs away, nonetheless. Then her gives her a look, not being able to help what he says next. "So, can I call you Sourpuss, then? Since Catnip is off limits - "

The look she sends his way strangles a laugh out of him, but he doesn't regret asking. Instead, he grins at her from across the table they all take a seat at, while she pointedly ignores him.

Annie doesn't look nearly as amused as Gale thinks she should be. Or maybe it's only funny to him. She only looks back and forth between them, as if she's watching a rally.

"What's a sourpuss?" Finnick asks, innocently.

"Someone who feels sour," Annie answers him. "Like when you have a stomachache, Finnie, and how you act? A person like that, only all the time."

Katniss furrows her brow at Annie's explanation, while Annie only smiles knowingly at her in return.

Finnick's eyes widen in horror. "Ew! I never want to be a sourpuss!" He then roves his eyes over to Katniss, his voice disbelieving. "Don't you hate being a sourpuss?"

Gale snorts into his mashed potatoes.

Katniss purses her lips at all of them, though she tries to soften it toward Finnick.

"I'm not a sourpuss - Gale only calls me that because he likes being a jerk."

Gale swallows his food. "Okay, I'm not being a jerk, I was just teasing you - "

"What's a jerk?" Finnick asks.

"A person who likes being mean to people he likes," Annie answers again, her explanation as patient as the one before. Gale gives her a funny look this time.

"I don't think that's the best explanation for it, Annie..."

"Gale!" Finnick shouts. "Why do you like being a jerk?" He looks back and forth between them, first Gale, then Katniss. "Why are you so weird!"

At this, Annie suddenly giggles uncontrollably, putting her hand up against her mouth in a forceful attempt to stop. "They are alittle strange, aren't they?"

"You're one to talk, Annie," Gale says sarcastically.

She shakes her head, huffing out the last of her laughter. She gives Gale a look. "Are you calling me crazy, Gale?"

He's never gotten used to her moods. He tries to gauge if she's trying to hold back an episode, or if she's really, honestly, just joking around.

He ends up saying lightly, "I'd never call you that."

"Good," she says, straightening. "Because I'm not." Her eyes get a little foggy at her own statement, and she peels the fish apart with her fork, trying to keep up her playful visage, though both Gale and Katniss see right through it.

But Annie holds her own – and Gale has always admired her for that, for being so strong through the years. He's tried to tell her that, that she's doing good, that everyone she comes into contact with in town loves her, and that she's become almost professional with her cooking. But she usually repels them like water, shaking her head or telling him it's what she needs to do.

"So, Annie," Gale starts, minutes later. "Are you going to go back to work once Jacob gets back?"

"As long as their fish is good," Annie answers, looking up to him.

"What do you do?" Katniss asks.

Annie turns her eyes to her, and smiles. "We have our own shop, but it's closed right now. We open after Jacob's sea trips. I'm in charge of it." She sounds proud of it. Katniss smiles a little at her.

"I wish I could see it," she says.

"Oh, it's not that big," Annie answers, modestly. "But it's nice to have. I like selling to people."

"People love it when you open," Gale says. "I hear about it all the time when I'm here."

Annie doesn't blush, like Katniss anticipates.

"Good," she says. "That's what keeps us going – word of mouth. Right, Finnie?"

Finnick nods, cheeks full of potato.

"Donations!" he says, though it's muffled unintelligibly through his food. Katniss isn't sure what he's said, but Annie seems to have heard him just fine.

"Yes. Donations. I'm thankful for the kindness of the people here, ever since we got back."

They're treading in deep waters – Gale can feel it. Nobody ever truly talks about Finnick anymore, or their relationship, or about Annie's status as a Victor, though she still lives in the Victor's Village. People help her with giving extra money to her shop or bringing her gifts out of the blue.

But everyone's too frightened of what she'll do if they bring it up, and it doesn't seem to matter that she hasn't had an episode in a long time. If anyone starts a conversation about her past, it'll be hers to start.

Gale learned that the hard way, once.

But once Annie had her baby, she sent him a letter with it asking about another dinner together. Jacob had been wary about him, and Gale would have been incredibly surprised if he wasn't. But Annie's naturally open nature took him in, and Jacob slowly but surely accommodated Gale, willingly, after a few visits.

"It's very friendly here," Katniss says.

"It's an old habit for the town," Annie agrees. "It's a wonderful place to grow up."

Finnick pipes up seconds later. "Gale, I still need to show you the rock!"

"We can go right after this meal, alright?" he answers. "Can Katniss come with us?"

Finnick scrunches up his face in distaste, but he tries to smile through it. "I guess so."

Gale glances up to Katniss and smiles good-naturedly to her. She shakes her head a little at him.

"It's okay, Finn. She doesn't have to come. It can be just us."

He instantly brightens at this, and he doesn't try to hide it.

Once the dishes are put away, Gale sticks to his word. He goes to change into his hunting clothes, and Finnick hops onto his shoulders. They head out the back door of the house and turn down the line of the beach.

Annie grins at them, and she walks to the large window at the back of the house, near the door they just went through. Annie pushes the curtains away, tying them at the sides. The view opens up to a patio that spans the length of the house, with an outside table and awning protecting the wood from the beams of the sun, along with stairs heading into the beach.

The view is spectacular – the ocean gleams against her eyes, and she's able to see distant islands on the blue mat of the sea. There are few waves, but the waters are relatively calm. The sun is diagonal from the window, off to the left, but it'll end up setting right on the water.

The rock isn't very far from the house. It's down to the right and a few feet closer to the shore. They watch them as Gale kneels and places Finnick on the ground, and Finnick runs up and disappears under it. Gale ducks under it a few seconds later.

"Why are they so close?" Katniss slowly asks after a while.

Annie looks away from the window to her. She beckons Katniss to sit with her. "He hasn't told you?"

Katniss shakes her head.

"Oh…" she says. "Of course he hasn't. You are still too gone."

Katniss shifts at this, and at Annie's eyes. She looks to her hands in her lap, messing with her braid, and not really knowing what to say.

"Well, it's a funny story," she starts after a while. "It happened on accident. I ran into Gale before I had little Finnie, when he came to District 4 for the first time. I showed him around, and pointed him to my favorite places. I invited him to have dinner with Jacob and I – but that didn't go over well," she says, looking a little upset. "I was still…very unstable back then. Much more unstable than I've ever been. It wasn't Gale's fault – but Jacob told him never to come back. I thought it was unfair – even now I can…I can lose it. And I know it," she says, but her eyes are hardened and stony. "But after Finnie was born…it got a little easier. Not by much, but he gave me something to look forward to each day. He's my little savior." Annie smiles to her, and Katniss tries to smile back.

"So I wrote Gale a letter, a little more than a year later, and I invited him to have the dinner we didn't get to have," she continues. "Jacob didn't like it for a while, but I knocked some sense into him. Friends, true friends, are hard to come by. Normal friends are easy to find – especially here – but nobody else knew the pains of war quite like Gale and I did, and you and Peeta, but I've been here so long that I didn't know where everyone went. I would have contacted you," she says, almost apologetically. "It was also convenient that Gale came by at least once a year. I offered a room to him whenever he was in town, and he accepted it. And as little Finnie started to grow, he'd start to remember him. Sometimes Gale would have to stay a week, and Finnie loved it. He became very attached. I think it was because Gale would play with him and give him a companion when Jacob was gone." Annie shakes her head, laughing a little at a memory. "One time, I remember, when Gale left, Finnie cried for the longest time…"

This gives Katniss a pause, and she glances back out to the window, seeing the top of Gale's head as he emerges from the rock, and Finnick, with sand all over their arms and clothes.

"What would they do?" she asks.

"Oh, you know," Annie says. "Hide and seek, building blocks, whatever Finnie dragged Gale into, Gale would do."

"Gale does have younger siblings," she says. Her mind goes back to the times when they were younger, and she wonders if he played with Posy and Vick with toys, if they had any – or if he made toys for them. It's strange thinking about Gale being younger and playful with his family – but it's not something she can't imagine. She remembers a few conversations they'd have about Rory or Vick or Posy, though they were brief. Once the Reapings would start coming around, they'd talk about family even less, as if not talking about them would keep them from being taken away.

It's almost as if he's still the same age – not seeing him for so long kept him preserved in her mind. It's so bizarre thinking about him being twenty-four when he looks like the Gale that was always there for her, waiting in the forest.

"He'll be a good father, if he ever wants to settle down," Annie says, following Katniss's gaze out the window.

Katniss thinks that, perhaps he would be a good father someday. And it surprises her that she really believes it.

Gale tries to rid his hair and body of all the grains of sand before going back into the house. He makes Finnick stay, too, and he tries to get him clean first. He fidgets impatiently, wiggling and squirming all over the place as Gale does his best to wipe him clean.

"Finn, you gotta hold still – "

"I'm clean, though! Lemme go inside, I'm hot and sweaty," he whines.

"I am, too," Gale says, shaking out Finnick's shirt. "You're almost done…"

They both look up when the door opens, and Gale smiles gratefully when he sees Annie there, a scolding glance directed toward Finnick and a hand on her hip.

"Now, Finnie, does someone need a bath?"

"Aw, but ma!" he says, eyes going wide at the thought. "I'm not that dirty!"

"You can't lie to me," Annie says, eyes gleaming. "You're coming with me."

Finnick looks pleadingly to Gale, but Gale only shrugs at him. "Sorry, little man. I can't help you."

Annie picks him up and hauls him into the house. "You should thank Gale for making you so dirty, Finnie…" she says, teasingly, as she looks over her shoulder at him. He laughs while Finnick bumbles the whole way to the bath.

Katniss watches the scene unfold, almost feeling bad for Finnick as she hears the water fill up the tub. She turns into the doorway leading to the patio, and she opens up the screen door, glancing out to Gale while he rubs viciously at his hair.

Once he notices her, he quits trying to rid himself of the sand, though his arms and head still feel itchy.

"The only bad thing about sand is that it never comes off you," he says, going to sit on one of the patio chairs.

Katniss hesitates, then decides to take a seat, too. She clears her throat.

"I was wondering," she says. "Annie said something about a jungle earlier…"

Gale raises a brow at her. "Yeah?"

"She said you go there whenever you're here."

"I do," he says, shrugging. "It's different than in 12."

"Where is it?"

He jerks his head down the beach. She glances in the general direction, but sees nothing. "It's down there, past the last house on the beach. Why?"

"I want to go," she says.

He looks at her from across the table. "Really?"

She frowns. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"No," he says hurriedly, though she could have sworn she heard a second lasting hesitation. "I'm glad you want to go. Did you bring your gear?"

"Yes," she says, tone declaring that it would be blasphemous if she didn't.

He shrugs. "Wanna go right now?"

She goes and changes into her hunting attire – she's not exactly sure what compelled her to bring it to the Capitol with Gale, but she's glad she did – and she pulls her bow out from the bottom of her luggage bag. It's almost habit, still, carrying around her weapon. And it feels like home. She couldn't bear to leave it back in 12, all alone.

Gale tells Annie they'd be back in a few hours, with Finnick too distracted with all the soap and water to ask where they're going. Gale's grateful for that – if Finnick had gotten a whiff of knowing they'd be going to the jungle, he's not sure they'd be able to stop him from tagging along.

"Annie's doing well," Katniss says, eyes roaming along the shoreline.

"She's surprising, isn't she?" he says, mindlessly picking up a small rock on the sand. "So much stronger than she was during the war, even though she never really talks about it."

"She doesn't?"

Gale shakes his head, tossing the rock and catching it in his palm. "All the time I've been coming here, she never brings up the subject. But to be honest," he says, smiling a little hollow. "I don't blame her. I don't like talking about it either."

Katniss thinks of Annie's words from before. True friends. They both went through crippling tragedies – and didn't have anyone to help them pick up the pieces. Katniss had Peeta during the time right after the war, and she accepted him. For a few months, Annie was alone, and Annie knew what it was like. But then she had little Finnick, and he propelled her into getting better. At least, better than Katniss had seen during the war.

Gale had...who did Gale have?

Well, she thinks, he has Johanna. He has his squad, and he's even got Reeva.

She looks at him from the corner of her eye and watches him throw the rock out to the ocean. He's got a community of people there, waiting in the Capitol for him. She had seen so many people smile at him and flirt with him - but he's got that thing wound up in him, that isn't quite relaxed or content. Something in him isn't happy, and at first, she let herself believe it was just his job. From the way he acted in 12, she figured it must have been taking its toll on him. She didn't want to spend any more time thinking on it - or on Gale.

And she didn't want to acknowledge that it was _her _that was making him seem the way he was. She didn't want to deal with it. She just wanted him to go away so she could keep going, just as always, in her home in 12.

It's so hard to try to ignore it, after their arguments and their conversations and being here, away from Peeta and the simple things.

But he's good at keeping things simple, too. And he's good at keeping things blunt. Especially after the night before, when the air between them was so thick and impenetrable, he's remained cool about it. Then again, so has she. But she's gotten better about that - about not talking or voicing things. She's found it better to keep the things that will and can hurt, buried and out of sight. It makes her less viable to go completely crazy.

It's just like that first kiss - and she's not sure why she has to think about it, but it's the only thing that really holds comparison. After that first kiss, that obvious, terrible obstacle Gale had made for them, he ignored it, and he stashed it away. She thinks she realizes, better now than back then, why he did it – and how he was able to. To feel and say things for one moment, to desire them and really let it touch you, and then let it disappear for a while. It might've been hard for him, back then, to keep calm and ignore it. When he was passionate about something, he could barely keep quiet about it. She'd hear about it all the time from him – he'd let the words flow and she'd listen to him. But when love came into play, when it was deeper than just friendship and more than just a passing glance, he kept a strict quietness. He held it back, and only tried to show it when times were dire. When District 12 burned, when things seemed at their absolute worst. And even then, he had given such a strange way of showing it, almost as if he didn't know how he should.

Peeta was so much different. He had always acted like he had nothing to lose - and maybe he didn't. But he'd show it. He'd show his love all the time to her, and she isn't ashamed to say that she liked the attention. It was a different kind of attention - nothing like _the face of rebellion_ attention. It was much more intimate and secretive and shared. It was something she never felt she had before. It was novel and new and it made her feel things she never knew could happen to her – even in the chaos of the war.

As they near the outcrop of forestry, the words from the night before ring through her ears. She clearly remembers the desperation in Gale's voice, about all of it, and perhaps that was his card to get her to start talking. Or at least, what he hoped would.

Her throat clenches as words form on her tongue. What is she afraid to tell him? That she knows it wasn't his fault? Because – it isn't. It never was. It was her fault more than anyone's. She'd like to blame Coin, but she's already killed her, and it was an empty type of revenge. Prim still didn't come back once Coin was gone, and Katniss still thinks she could've cared less about what happened to the world once Prim left it.

She glances at Gale again, and he doesn't seem to be tormented with thoughts like hers, though she wonders if he's gotten better at hiding his emotions – kind of like her. His shoulders are relaxed and his jaw is slack, and instead of stealing looks to her face, he looks down to her boots and the sand she steps on.

And she is struck by how much she wants to tell him. And how she wants him to look her in the face, which should be alarming. Instead, it only brings her this strange, hazy longing.  
_  
Remember when we were friends?_

They take a few steps into the forest before Gale stops them.

"Listen. This place isn't like back in 12. I've encountered some nasty things in the times I've come here," he says, pulling out a knife. "Make sure you're paying attention. Some things might actually come after us in here."

She notices how he's trying not to seem worried. Maybe he hasn't gotten better at hiding emotions after all.

"I'll be fine," she says, waving him off as if he said the silliest thing. "I'm still...what did Anton call me? A 'goddess with a bow?'"

He shakes his head, smiling a little. "That's what he said."

"At least someone still believes in my bowing."

They start walking, with her leading them. He frowns at her.

"I believe in you," he says. "Nobody I've met even comes close to having the skill you do."

She looks at her bow, dangling from her hand. It's able to give her comfort where other living beings can't. It has been her lifeline her whole life, and it never abandoned her. It's a simple thing, and the weight is warm in her palms.

"You never gave me compliments before. Why start now?" she hears herself say, though she's not sure why she does.

Gale looks at the point in between her shoulder blades, then to her braid, scanning it down from the bottom of her head to almost the back of her knees. He wonders what it looks like loose, the thick hair hanging over her body like a blanket. He wonders what it would feel like under his fingers.

He looks away, into the depth of the swamp. "Yeah, you're right," he says. "Why start now?"

Would she believe him if he told her he always wanted to? He didn't know how to say it back then, because she was the only girl he'd had that was a friend. A close friend. She felt like loyalty. Telling her how great he thought she was would have only spawned the haphazardly buried feelings he had about her. It would have killed what they had - though he'd messed up, anyway.

"But I'm not going to lie," he says, walking a bit quicker, passing her. "You've always been the best hunter I know."

Gale feels her stare on his back, and the feeling lingers when she looks away. But she follows him further into the forestry, and it makes him hopeful.

* * *

anon review replies:

mae: could you feel the love? it's in this one. i kid you not. it's not sexy lovin' yet, but still!

Nicole: UM, THANK YOU SO MUCH. i'm very happy this story could be of service to you. :) there are a lot of peeta/katniss stories out there, for sure. gale/katniss is definitely lacking, unfortunately.

anon: i wanted to tell gale that he could tell me everything when i wrote that. yeah. fangirling. (:


	14. understanding

a/n; Liam Hemsworth and Miley Cyrus. Yeah.  
I'm shakin' my head. And crying.

chapter fourteen – understanding

'i am up in the clouds,  
and i can't, and i can't come down  
i can watch but not take part  
where i end and where you start  
where you, you left me alone  
you left me alone.' - radiohead, where i end and you begin

* * *

Walking and running and jumping in the swamp are hardened in nostalgia.

The setting is different, but the meaning is the same. Gale can't shake the feeling, and he isn't sure if he wants to. It reminds him of so many things, like teaching her his snares and traps when he was fourteen, fifteen, and her showing him how wonderful she was with a bow at the mere age of twelve.

_Well, Catnip, stealing is punishable by_ _death, or hadn't you heard? _

He thinks back to that day when he first met her, her going to touch the rabbit hung in his trap, then jumping like one when he caught her staring at them. Had it really been ten years ago?

He looks at her, and at her braid, almost able to find their tale hidden in its length. It feels like he's known her for half a lifetime, even with the five untouched years after he left her.

Perhaps it was because she's been on his mind more than he'd like to admit, over the years. Her and Prim, just circling around his heart, as if they were playing a game.

They get deep into the forest before they run into any game. Katniss notices it before he does, taking a crouching stance in front of him, lightly taking an arrow and knocking it back. She remains rigid and quiet as she anticipates her release.

Gale comes up behind her, eyes spying a young boar, the tusks barely breaking the surface around his nostrils. It dips his head every once in a while, grazing on the rough weeds growing around.

He's close enough to hear her breathe out, then the arrow whistles past her cheek. It flies and plunges squarely into the animal's right eye. It stumbles once, hesitating to die, taking one last stand before it falls to the grass in a huff.

Gale watches as Katniss lowers her bow, staring at the dead boar blankly, almost uncertainly, and he wonders – exactly how long has it been since she's been out to hunt? Truly hunt? Not by taking Vick out into the forest – counting that doesn't seem honest. Counting that would be like counting a practice trial.

He wonders if she's hunted alone, in 12. He never took into account that she hadn't, since she seemed to live there – her, and her bow.

When she doesn't move to check the boar, Gale stands and makes his way over to it. He leans over to examine the eye, blood trickling desperately around the arrow, a puddle forming into the grass around it.

"See?" he says. "I knew you still had it."

She places the bow on her back before getting out of her crouch, and walks up to him, glancing at the boar and then up at him. She crosses her arms.

"I told you I did."

Her voice holds a defiant tone, as if she's trying to prove something to him. He frowns at her, glancing to the boar. She doesn't have anything to prove to him. She only has to prove anything to herself. But maybe, he thinks, if she's able to show someone else progress, any progress at all, it'll help her in the long run. Maybe if someone else sees it, it'll be more believable to herself.

Gale's seen it, though. Those subtle changes. They are few, from what he's seen, but they're there. The way she moves, walks - it's less mechanical and more driven. She reminds him less of a statue. She even acts better around the squad - and Annie. Not that he's had much to go on. How she acts around him hardly counts.

So he crosses his arms back at her and tells her, "You don't have to prove anything to me, Katniss."

She purses her lips. "I wasn't trying to."

"Could've fooled me."

She steps around him, pulling her arrow out of the eye, the motion causing a wet punch to sound in the air between them. She doesn't answer him, and goes to avoid his statement.

"Are you going to carry him, or am I?"

He acts as if he thinks about it. "Well, it's your kill. It'd only be right to let you carry him back."

Katniss sighs, and she goes to move the boar's limbs around, almost motioning to lug him onto her back. Gale intervenes before she takes him seriously.

He lightly pushes at her shoulder, effectively stopping her. She's rigid at his touch.

"You didn't honestly believe I'd make you carry him, did you?"

Her eyes tell him that she did. But she lies, and says, "No, I just thought..."

He gives her a small smile, saying, "C'mon. When would I ever let you do that?" he shakes his head. "Besides, you're sore."

She hesitates. "I'm not...that sore."

He heaves the boar onto his shoulders, then he gives her a look. "You don't have to keep lying, you know."

She musters a glare, though it's half-hearted. She turns around and begins the walk back, straying into the lead. Gale follows behind her.

"I'm glad you shot this," Gale says after a while. "No disrespect to District 4, but fish isn't exactly my favorite."

Katniss grazes her fingers on a few passing trees. "Mine either."

"We've been spoiled on too much rabbit and deer, huh?" he asks, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

"I guess so," she says. "I've never had fish before today."

"Did you like it?"

She thinks about it, remembering the buttery but slimy texture. She frowns a little.

"It was okay. Annie made it taste really good."

"She's magic," he says, hefting the boar. "I tried fish once before Annie made some for me, and I hated it."

Katniss glances over to him. "Do you come to Annie's a lot?"

He looks back to her. "Only when I'm here. She's nice enough to lend me a room."

Though Katniss already knows the answers, she needs to hear it from him, just to see if he'll lie - or maybe just to see what he'll say.

"How did that happen?"

Gale sighs and shakes his head. "Long story shot, I messed up the first time I saw her here. I accidentally sent her into an episode. Her brother hated me after that, then made me leave. But after Finnick was born, she mailed me, and I came by the next time I was in town." He tries shrugging, but fails with the weight if the boar. "It's been like that ever since."

"Is that why you and Finnick are so close?"

Gale smiles at this, and it's a true smile. It isn't one he uses to conceal himself, or one he puts up for show. Katniss had forgotten what he looked like, wearing one.

"Yeah. He's a good kid."

Katniss stares at his smile. "Does he remind you of your siblings?"

He looks up to her, a little surprised by her question. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess," she half-shrugs.

"He just..." Gale starts, then trails off. "I don't know. Maybe it's because Posy and Vick and Rory are all growing up. And I've kinda missed it." The regret's too hard to keep out of his voice, so he doesn't try to hold it back. "He's about Posy's age when the war started."

Katniss bites the inside of her cheek, before tentatively asking, "What about what Anton said, about inviting your family over to the Capitol?"

Gale gives a half-smile. "It can be dangerous in the Capitol - we've gone through a lot of bad guys. And Posy and Vick need their education."

Katniss furrows her brows. "But they have breaks, and Rory can always ask for a day off. And maybe when it dies down more, they can visit you."

"Maybe," he says.

Katniss stops walking. "But isn't that what you'd want? To see them more?"

He stops, too. "Yes," he says. "It is what I want. But I'd have to leave them without watching over them, or I'd be busy with contracts, or - "

"Gale," she says. "Think about it. Paylor would cut you some slack. I mean, she's letting me bother you, and it doesn't seem to be much of a problem."

He glances at her, wondering why she's trying to talk him into it. He sighs. "Maybe my problem is that my family worries. They worry when I'm not there, and they'll worry when I'm around. It's easier with you," he says, smiling. "Because you don't worry. You've already made it clear that you don't like me. I can die tomorrow, and it wouldn't be a big deal to you."

She opens her mouth slightly, then splutters, "It would be a big deal."

He raises a brow. "Would it?"

Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "Yes. Your family would be devastated and - you shouldn't even talk that way, and..."

He shakes his head. "I know it'd be hard on my family. I'm only talking about you."

She looks as if she's not sure what to say. She avoids his gaze, glancing around to the trees, cheeks slowly tinging pink in embarrassed hesitation.

"Even...even if I don't like you, it's not as if you dying _wouldn't_ affect me," she says after a while.

Gale can't tell if she's lying again, but he doesn't want to feel the full effect of her words if she's really telling the truth. So he says, "Like I said, you don't have to keep lying."

Katniss's eyes gain a glint. "I'm not lying!"

He takes a step closer to her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she says tersely.

"So if I did die tomorrow," he says, slowly, and she glares at the words. "What would you do? Would you let me call you Catnip, just for today?"

He's got a feeling she'll slap him, from the look on her face. He's surprised when it doesn't come - and even more surprised when her face is conflicted.

"I...I'm not - " she says, before Gale hears something. His eyes look down sharply, and he takes a step back, crouching and lowering the boar from his shoulders.

"What are you - " she starts, but is silenced by his look. He raises one hand.

"Don't move," he says, voice low. He pulls out his knife from his belt, then moves closer to her legs. She refrains from taking a step back, instead following his gaze. She's shocked to see a snake almost coiled up all along her calf. She gasps a little.

"Shh," he says gently. "It won't bite you if you remain calm."

"Right," she breathes, though she feels her leg seize up, her muscles go rigid. She's not sure she's ever been in such proximity of a snake before.

He makes quick work of it, finding its head and pressing his thumb on the top of it, wrapping his fingers around the line of its jaw. The snake hisses loudly, though it seems to be paralyzed from biting. It's body writhes and jerks, easily uncoiling from her leg in a vain attempt to get free.

Katniss takes several steps back once she's free, but she doesn't take her eyes off the snake.

Gale looked about to slit its throat, before he puts his knife back in his belt and throws the snake out somewhere in the forest.

She watches him walk back to pick up the boar. When he stands, his shoulders hunch just slightly, but he still surpasses six feet. She hasn't taken to noticing his height, or his build, these past few days, but it's hard ignore it now. When he comes to stand by her, her eyes come up to his upper chest, and she has to tilt her head up to meet her eyes with his own.

"Thanks," she says, a little quieter than she means.

"Don't thank me," he says. "I've always got your back, remember?" _Even if you don't care_ goes without saying, he thinks.

Katniss isn't sure what to say, and she watches as he turns away from her and begins walking toward the beach. She stares at his back as she follows him, noticing how it moves under the weight of the boar and the weight of many other things.

"I wasn't lying, you know," she says after a moment.

He stops at her words. She sees his shoulders give a little.

"You sure you wanna give me that much hope, Katniss?" he asks, a bit defeated.

She wonders at his words, before she realizes that...maybe what he _really_ wants is what they used to have. But the thing is, he's never openly said it. Perhaps he implied it last night, but he hasn't said a single word directly, or openly, or honestly.

Is that thought - that idea, desire - something that he's frightened of? Something he doesn't want to release, to make it fully known? Is she really so scary?

He turns to look at her when she doesn't answer him, and his eyes are a dark, charcoal grey. They hint at something, something he's trying to hide. She can see it with his stare so direct and unyielding. His stance is a little defensive, and she wonders if he wants her to take her statement back.

Why does he not want her to give him just an inkling to work with? Hope...wouldn't he want that? Just a handhold, just a glimpse of an opportunity to make their relationship better?

It strikes her that _she_ does. She wants it - she wants that hope. It's there and flying, and she can feel it in between them, inside this forest, inside this protective web of branches and shielding leaves. It's there, and the force is tremendous.

But she can't tell if he feels it or not. He certainly acts like he doesn't. And she's not sure if the feeling inside of her is disappointment or relief. It's been a while since she's felt so much of either that they're hard to discern from one another.

"You can call me Catnip," she hears herself say, through the pounding in her ears.

His eyes are unreadable. His resolve is quickly failing. Looking at her, standing feet away from him, her eyes wide and heartbreaking, makes him almost falter. He isn't sure what she's thinking, and he's almost afraid to venture out into the unknown any further than he has. As much as he wants to take it a step further, he holds back. She comes first - she always comes first. There is no point in placing his desires before her again.

He's too afraid of what will happen if he does, this time.

He looks away from her. "Wasn't Sourpuss a nice substitute?"

She almost smiles at his teasing, no matter how empty it echoes around them. "No."

He closes his eyes for a moment, and inhales through his nose. "Alright, then," he says. "Whatever you wish, Catnip."

And strangely, she thinks as they find themselves on the hot sands of the beach, the nickname doesn't hold the weight of the years, like it used to.

She finds herself wishing that it did, and this time, she stops her mind from lying. This time, she lets herself believe in her feelings.

* * *

Once they make it back to Annie's, Finn goes wild over the boar. When he first catches sight of it, he tugs on Gale's pant leg as he makes his way to Annie. Annie, when she sees them, hurriedly stops them and forces them back outside.

"That is _not_ going to make its home in my house," she exclaims. "I'll put it in the freezer once you gut it."

"Gut it?" Katniss says, wrinkling her nose.

"Meat's just like fish," Annie announces, placing her hands on her hips. "Just more massive and inconvenient."

Gale rolls his eyes at her while Katniss raises her eyebrows. "Is the table still in the shed?" Gale asks, rolling back on his heels.

Annie grins. "Yes. It should be clean."

"Should be?" Gale trails.

"I use it for the really big fish," Annie says, shaking her head and walking around them toward the shed. Then she waves her hand at him. "Don't worry, I cleaned it the other day."

"If you say so, Annie."

Gale and Katniss follow behind her, while Finn asks all the questions he can about the boar. Finnick adamantly sticks to his belief that only Gale was able to take it down, and doesn't believe for a second Katniss was able to kill it with one arrow. Katniss doesn't try to refute his claim, only giving Gale a look, then a little hesitantly, a smile.

Gale's eyes flick to it immediately, but he doesn't return it, instead turning away and walking a bit ahead of her.

Reaching the shed, Gale places the boar on its side onto the table. He sighs and looks over to Annie, who switches on all of the lights available in the room.

"The bigger knives are over on that side wall," she says, pointing. "I moved it around from the last time you were here. And use that big tub sink to clean out all the blood. And then you can package everything in these bags," Annie points to the side of the table, where all the parchment and plastic bags are kept. "And once you're done, you can bring it to me, and I'll make room in the freezer for it!"

"Always making me work, aren't you?" Gale asks Annie, though it sounds teasing. Annie merely shrugs.

"I'm better with fish. Besides, I can't have you sitting around doing nothing all day. What kind of hostess would I be?" she says, smiling, and goes to usher Finnick out of the room. He protests loudly.

"No buts, Finnie. This is a job these two must do alone," Annie says, then her eyes flick up to Gale. "Right, Gale?"

The glance she gives him holds a lot of suggestion behind it, and it makes him nervous - or anxious. It's been a long time since a task had made him _nervous_ before. When he first saw Katniss - he thinks he would have been nervous, if it hadn't happened so quickly, and if he wasn't so caught off guard.

He glances quickly to Katniss, then away to the boar on the table and the knife at his belt.

"Right," he says, slowly. "This job might be too messy for you, Finn."

He goes to protest again, but Annie hurriedly takes him out of the shed and closes the door.

And suddenly, it's just them, again. Except it's different, this time.

Gale rolls his sleeves up before taking his knife out of his belt. He looks at Katniss.

"Ever cut an animal up before?"

She eyes the boar. "Does chicken count?"

He scoffs a laugh. "It can. This one has a few different parts." He hesitates, before saying, "If you don't want to do this, you can - "

"No," she interrupts. "I want to."

He looks at her for a second, then he puts his knife lightly on the skin of the boar. "Alright. Well, first, I have to skin it."

"Have you done this a lot?" she asks as she watches him.

"A few times," he answers. "Annie makes me do this each time I bring something to her house."

"Does she not like meat?"

"She does," he says, discarding some of the fur off to the side. "But she never buys it. I have a feeling she just likes putting me to work."

"Just because she can?"

Gale smirks. "I've long ago gave up on figuring out the inner workings of Annie."

Katniss smiles at this, then watches him finish removing the skin. Then he lifts it and takes it to the sink, cutting open the underside and using the faucet to help drain it.

"Do you need any help?" Katniss calls over.

"You can help when I cut it. Alright?"

It's a good thing the boar isn't too big. Draining doesn't take very long, and Gale has it back on the table in minutes. He ignores the knives on the wall, preferring his own. It's large enough to finish the rest of the job. He looks over to Katniss.

"We can start with taking out the organs," he says, and at the look on her face, he has to hide his amusement. "There are some gloves in the drawer over there," he points.

She looks up to him. "Are you going to use any?"

"No," he says.

"Then I'm not either," she answers, and he raises his brows at her.

"Alright," he answers, a bit skeptically, back.

Katniss isn't completely sure why she forewent the gloves, besides keeping up with him. Taking out organs from a boar is a lot slimier and messier than she had hoped.

"Wanna take out the liver?" he asks her after they've discarded the ones they didn't need. She doesn't mean to, but she makes a face.

"I can get you a bag for it."

He quirks his face at her. "Have you never got over your phobia of this kind of stuff?"

She frowns at him. "I like selling it, not butchering it. But I don't have a _phobia_."

"So you're not scared of liver?" he says, then forces the organ into her hands. She hadn't even seen him cut it out.

Katniss makes a squeak, the liver bouncing out of her hands and onto the table. It makes a loud splat.

She gives Gale a quick glare, but it's softened when she sees his smile. It's wide and easy, like it's one he isn't thinking about. She tries not to stare, in case he notices her looking and stops.

"I'm not scared of it," she tries. "That wasn't even fair!"

"You're not very convincing."

"You caught me off guard," she says, staring at him pointedly as she picks up the liver and lifts it up to his eye level. "See? I'm fine."

He holds up his hands, as if backing off. "You'll need more than that to completely convince me, Catnip."

It slips off his tongue easier than he imagined it would. And though he has permission to use it now, it still feels as if it's a new thing, as if she'll suddenly change her mind and turn into spikes against him.

She doesn't. Instead, she gives him a small smile, and some of his nerves go away. Some multiply in strength.

He shifts and acts like he's focusing on the boar. "I'll get the stomach out next."

They continue on like that until the boar is fully cleaned out and bare. Gale teaches her some of the cuts on the boar, like the pork loins and the ham. He shows her where the bacon comes from, too, though he isn't sure if she's all that eager to learn.

He lets her cut some of them out, and gives her another smile when her concentration outweighs her squeamish tendencies. The meat cuts aren't bad, either. He compliments her on them.

"They're just meat. You could still cook them even if I did them wrong," she says in answer.

"But they taste even better when you cut them well. You did a good job."

She ducks her head, but gives him her thanks.

They clean up the room the best they can, taking the parts they're going to use back to Annie, and discarding the ones they aren't. Some parts Gale gives to Annie to sell to the markets in town, if she wants to.

"I guess I'll make this for dinner," she says when she takes the pork, placing the pork loins onto the table, and going to place the others in the fridge.

More time had passed than Gale realized. Once they let Annie have her way with the pork, the clock is already rounding toward 6:30. How long had they been hunting, or taken cutting up the boar? Two hours, three?

He glances over to Katniss, who has taken up roost on the couch, curling up by the armrest at one end with newly changed clothes. Finn had taken a place on a chair near her, flicking on the television on the wall, news feeds displaying across the screen.

Gale takes his chances and walks into the room, sitting on the opposite end from her. The middle cushion, he has to admit, is a little tempting.

Finn, upon seeing him, immediately loses interest in the TV. He bounds off his chair and takes up the space in between them.

"Why didn't you let me go with you?" is his first question as he peers up at him. "I'm strong, too."

"I know you are," Gale says, ruffling his hair. "But it's a very dangerous place. Even for me."

"Really?" he asks, his voice above incredulous.

"Yeah," Gale says lightly. "But I promise I'll take you, one of these days."

Finnick frowns at him. "You say that every year."

"Finnick," he says, shaking his head. "You're five. You've got plenty of time to get stronger. Maybe one day, you'll even be able to beat me up."

"I can beat you up right now!" he exclaims, shifting on the cushion with a bounce, punching Gale with all his might into his shoulder.

Gale moves his arms to shield himself, acting like Finn's recklessly thrown arms really do damage. "Whoa, Finn, that hurts."

Finn laughs at him, jumping into his lap. Gale takes him by his sides and rolls them to the ground, Finn shouting out surprise and making strange shrieking sounds. Katniss smiles at them as they roll around, Gale taking more punishment than he has to, and Finnick climbing his back and grabbing at his hair. But Gale doesn't seem to mind, spinning around and making Finnick shriek more, going to poke and tickle Finnick's sides.

Annie strolls into the room not long after the noise starts, hands on her hips, saying, "How many times have I told you boys no rough housing in the living room? You'll scratch the wood floors."

They don't seem to hear her.

"Katniss, how could you let them do this?" Annie asks, though her frown quirks. "I can't trust anyone these days."

Katniss looks over to her. "Sorry. They're having fun."

She gives Katniss a small smile, watching the boys for a few more moments until breaking it up and calling Finnick to the kitchen with her.

"You boys can play later, _outside_, thank you." She gives Gale a look as she turns, but her eyes sparkle.

"Stop being such a mom, Annie," Gale calls to her, lying on the ground.

"Someone's gotta be in charge!" she calls back, voice echoing from the kitchen.

Gale smiles softly at that, closing his eyes and spreading his arms out beside him on the ground. Katniss takes the chance to look at him - hair tousled all over, a brief, contentment taking over his face. He's never truly looked like a boy - he's always had the look of a man to him, ever since the day they met. There was nothing to promote the kid inside you all those years ago, and there's not much to help now, either. But he might look the youngest he's ever been, laying half on the rumpled rug and half on the dark wood of the floor.

She watches him until he places his hands behind his head and opens his eyes to the ceiling. He turns his head to look at her, and she averts her eyes, finding the news casters on the TV.

"Are you ticklish?" he asks.

She blinks at him. "What?"

"Ticklish," he repeats. "Are you?"

She raises a brow. "If I was, do you think I'd tell you?"

He smirks. "Probably not," he says. "But don't worry, I'm not going to do anything." He looks back up to the ceiling. "I just realized I never knew."

The sentence strikes a sad note inside her. She bites her lip. "A little, I guess. I haven't been tickled since dad died, I think."

The thought shocks him. "You mean, you and Peeta don't tickle each other?"

She furrows her brows. "Not really. I don't think we've ever thought about it that much."

"Oh," he says, not knowing what else to say. Maybe he always imagined them to be more...he doesn't know. Maybe he made up a lot of things about them during his time away from her. Her life has been so untouchable until now.

"Are you ticklish?" she asks after a few moments. He glances over to see her looking back at him.

"A little..." he starts, deciding that he wants to tell her. "On my stomach. And if you grip right here," he says, indicating the area right above his knee. "It's the worst."

"That's a strange place," she says, her eyes following his hand.

"Yeah. Don't ask me how I figured that out."

She tilts her head at him. "How did you figure it out?"

He gives her a look, then he shakes his head, smiling a little. "I can't remember. I think it was Rory."

"Rory?"

"Don't sound so surprised," he says. "We acted like kids every once in a while."

"_You_?"

He gives her a small glare until he realizes she's joking with him.

"Yeah, me."

"I don't think I've seen you so _not_ serious as you've been today."

He peers up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes in thought.

"I bet we could think of a time..." he trails. "I thought I was a pretty fun guy."

She raises a brow again. "Really?"

"Yeah, sure," he says, glancing at her. "What? You didn't think so?"

She stops herself from impulsively answering, and she breezes over a few memories in her mind. They flicker over the bread with an arrow struck through it, and when they would go to the small pond and when he would push her under the water. She remembers him trying to chase her up a tree, only to laugh at him when he miss-stepped and fell through a few branches, landing in a heap on the ground.

The memories are dusty and worn at the edges. They play like an old film through her mind, but they still surprise her. There's so many she's left untouched, in fear that they would hurt her.

"Yeah," she says. "I thought you were a fun guy. If you weren't, I probably wouldn't have hung out with you so much."

He smiles a bit at this, and she finds that she likes it when he does.

"I'm pretty sure you only liked me for the rabbits I caught."

"Are you calling me shallow?"

"Of course not," he says, but she can detect the hint of sarcasm. "I'm not a _jerk_."

"If you're not a jerk, then I'm not a sourpuss."

He gives her a serious look. "Are you sure?"

She takes the pillow lying beside her and throws it at his head. He barely evades it.

"This is scarier than your arrows," he says, gesturing to the pillow.l

She narrows her eyes. "I know how to tickle you."

"Is that a threat?"

He honestly doesn't believe she'll voluntarily touch him, though she's got a defiant, bold look on her face.

"What do _you_ think?"

His mind goes a little blank at the thought of her clawing at his stomach. "I, uh, I take it back."

It's a second before her lips creep over her teeth, a slow smile splitting her face. Then she lets out a small laugh.

Gale's stomach is the first thing to start swelling. The second is his heart.

He grabs the pillow off to his side, and he throws it at her. It hits her in the shoulder before bouncing back to the cushions. She stares at him with wide eyes.

He shrugs at her. "You started it."

She reaches beside her, grips the pillow, and throws it back at him. It hits him in the face.

"We might need more pillows," he says, picking up the offending object and lowering it to his chest.

"I don't think Annie would like feathers flying everywhere."

"Maybe not," Gale says. "But we can always try when she isn't around."

It sounds like the Gale of old talking, a tinge of rebellion in his tone. Only this time, it's easy-going. There isn't anything dark in the background of his words, like when they were in the forest in 12. It's lighthearted and simple, slipping off his smile.

She looks at him for a few seconds.

"Okay," she says.

* * *

There are surprisingly few things Gale doesn't know about Annie. Of course, he isn't sure about the superficial things - like favorite color or favorite choice of attire. But he knows the details, like the choices in her moods, her family life with Finn. But there's another thing he knows about.

It was another night of sleepless hours. He had gotten up to go to the kitchen, to sit at the bar and drink a glass of water. He went to the porch and decided to take a walk down the shore, when he heard Annie's voice, somewhere above him. She was talking freely, almost casually, like having a conversation with a close friend.

Listening further, he realized she was talking to Finnick. Dead Finnick, her Finnick.

He let himself sit on a porch chair, eavesdropping on her - them - for just a minute. He listened to an intimate conversation that almost wasn't intimate at all. It was a conversation among friends, like a reunion, like Finnick never left her at all.

He found himself waiting for Finnick to talk and to answer. To tell her something she hadn't mentioned. But he never did.

And he still doesn't.

Gale finds himself going outside, once more, silently slipping into his porch chair, ears picking up Annie's soft lulls of conversation. It's a strange, secret habit he has, but there's a freedom in it. There's a freedom in her voice, no holds barred, and he's addicted to it. He's tried to talk to Prim before, in the dark of his bedroom, staring at his ceiling. But it's never as open, as freely flowing as Annie's voice is. His are always stilted and rough. It's always been hard to get the words out, every time he's tried. He's given it up for the time being, until the words are easier to say.

He hears Annie talk about Finn and life and him and Katniss, for a while. Then she talks about other things, like the beach and the constellations that are visible that night. Gale looks out and tries to find them, too.

He makes his way back to the kitchen sometime later, only to be surprised to find Katniss sitting in one of the bar stools, spinning around the empty glass he left.

"Hey," he says quietly, walking around behind the counter.

She looks up, eyes betraying her surprise. "Hi."

"What are you doing up so late?" he asks.

She shrugs a little. "Sleep is hard to come by, sometimes."

"Yeah," he says. "Tell me about it." He eyes the glass. "Want something to drink?"

"Oh, no thanks. I wasn't planning on staying in here long."

"Alright," he says, going to take his empty glass and filling it with water from the tap for himself. He notices her watching him.

"What?" he asks.

She blinks, looking away. "Nothing," she says. "Just thinking."

If they were speaking earlier like this, Gale's certain he wouldn't ask her any further.

"What about?"

She hesitates, pinning a stray hair behind her ear. "I've been...thinking about - Finnick a lot," she admits. "I know you didn't like him much, but I...I miss him, and I look around," she says, staring at the walls. "And it's like I can feel him. It's like he's still here, inside the walls."

"It's because he is still here," Gale says, trying to catch her eyes. "He lives inside Annie. He's always with her, you know."

Against her fears, she looks up to him. He gives her an earnest smile.

She takes a breath and shakes her head. "I wish...I wish I couldn't feel it, sometimes. I wish I didn't feel him. It'd make it so much more bearable, and I wouldn't have to deal with..." she trails off, aches starting to take their toll on her. She feels her head pound, and her eyes grow wet. "Prim's is enough."

He looks at her a while before looking away. "I know," he answers her, leaning against the counter in front of her. "It hurts a lot. But she's inside me, too. I feel her all the time, and sometimes I wonder if I think about her enough, it'll help withstand the pain better."

She rubs a finger on the granite of the counter. "Has it helped you?"

"...no," he says, honestly. "But the memories can make me smile, every once in a while. And thinking about her...I can still remember what her smile looked like. And I remember how it'd swindle Sae some of her best items. I remember a lot of good things, and I'd rather remember her and know her than forget her. Wouldn't you?"

She feels the warmth of a tear slip from her eye, and she roughly wipes it away. "No," she says immediately. "It's been so _long_, and I still feel the _same way_ - I shouldn't be like this - she shouldn't be -"

Gale reaches across the bar, gripping her shoulders, and gives her a disbelieving look. "Take that back, Katniss. What would Prim say, knowing you'd rather forget all your time together?"

Her eyes flash. "But she's not even _here_ anymore, Gale."

He lets one of his hands release from her shoulder, pressing his palm harshly against her breastbone, striking her silent. "Yes," he says. "She is."

Another tear falls from her eyes, then three, then four, all abrupt and sudden, as if they've been waiting for her to let them go.

He feels her tremble beneath his hand. He wants to console her, but first, she must understand, and she must accept it.

"She's always been here."

She doesn't look away from him. Her breathing is uneven, and her heart shudders. A shaky hand reaches up and touches his, and grasps it, and pushes it harder against her.

She wonders if this is what it's supposed to feel like, to reject anger and try to look past it, and to encompass the glow of Prim's smile, to feel the glow burn her, to melt her. To think about Finnick inside Annie, too. To think that both Prim and Finnick aren't as far away as she imagines them to be.

She doesn't release Gale's hand until she stops crying, and he hands her a few tissues in silence. He isn't going to tell her it gets better, because he isn't sure if it will. But he tells her what he knows is true.

"You're going to be okay, Katniss," he says, because he can see her, that girl and that woman, through the redness of her nose and her eyes and her cheeks. For the first time in a while, he doesn't have a doubt about her.

She says nothing back, but she eyes him in between using the tissues. The stare is much more intense behind glassy eyes. He's able to hold it for a few seconds before he looks to the forgotten water glass. He dumps the rest of it out and sets it into the sink.

He lets her recover for a few minutes, not wanting to leave her. He hesitates before saying, "I'm gonna go to bed. I can walk you to your room."

"I'm okay," she says.

He shakes his head. "No, I... " Then he stops himself. "Alright."

He walks around the counter, having to pass her to get to his bedroom. He slows, coming beside her, and before he can keep himself from doing it, he wraps his arm around her shoulders in a quick hug, touching the back of her head briefly before letting go. It's over so quickly, she doesn't have the chance to react.

"Goodnight," he says as he steps toward the hallway. "I'll see you in the morning."

She watches him, following his movements out of the room.

"Goodnight," she whispers back.

* * *

a/n; definitely don't know how to cut up a boar.

anon replies:

mae: cann you feeelll the looveee tonighttt. it was my version of simba and nala reuniting in this chapter, just more angst and less licking. (;

everyturnasurprise: look, a hug! that's like, the equivalent to making out. ;D

anon: backstory! yay! haha. and you basically guessed what happened some in this chapter, too. With the Gale/Finn thing, and the Katniss/Dead Finnick thing. Sometimes, you just gotta talk to someone who knows grief just as much as you. thanks so much about Annie! she's a tough one to get down, but i like her so much. and don't even get me started about why the hell Finnick had to die. i refused to believe he died until like, a week after i finished the books. ergh. sometimes i forget how much of a love/hate relationship i have with the books. ANYWAY, thank you. :)


	15. the build up

a/n; violence, y'all! VIOLENCE! IT'S A REAL THING!

chapter fifteen - the build up

'need the pulse to feel alive  
all the world's just made it seem all quiet  
this has all become far too loud  
i like you more when you don't make a sound' - kimbra, the build up

* * *

Habitually, Gale finds himself awaken at around five the next morning. He laces up and goes for a jog down the coastline and back again, wishing he'd be able to see the sunrise. The dark days of winter are upon them, and he's blanketed in blackness for all of his workout.

He gets back to the house to find Annie up and making breakfast - with Katniss, much to his surprise. Finnick is nowhere in sight, though he's almost certain he can hear his light snores from the room over.

"You went running again?" Katniss asks when she sees him walk in. Annie goes to the fridge and throws him a bottle of water.

"Thanks," he tells Annie. Then he tells Katniss,"Yeah. Every day."

"You should have told me."

"You wanted to go?"

"Sure," she shrugs. "I can't seem like a weakling in front of the squad, can I?"

Gale smiles. "Guess not. Sorry."

The day passes like the one before it. Gale has to go in for one more meeting after breakfast, and Katniss takes up his role and tries to push Finnick into talking to her more. It takes a while, and a few times, Katniss had run out of things to try to talk about. But Annie, when she wasn't doing chores around the house, would prod the little boy along.

When Gale gets back, he walks in to find Finnick and Katniss on the couch, Finn curled up in her side and Katniss with one arm precariously hanging off the side of the couch. Their deep breathing is the only sign that tells him they're asleep.

He sighs at the sight, wishing he could join them. Exhaustion creeps behind his eyes, but his mind won't let him sleep. He really needs to look over those papers they had given him today, and he has to sign off on their petty agreements and send a copy to Paylor and the executives back in the Capitol...

He moves around into the room, sitting quietly in a side chair. He sinks into the cushions and relaxes against the refreshing chill of the soft leather. He glances over to the duo on the couch, and he grins at the haphazard way they fell asleep. It almost looks uncomfortable, with the way Katniss's knees are bent and how Finnick's twisted, but they look content enough. And besides, what did Katniss say to Finnick to persuade him that cuddling was a good idea? Maybe she finally helped him realize that cooties really didn't exist.

He rolls his eyes at the thought. Guess there's such a thing as a woman's touch after all.

He shifts in the chair, bringing his eyes to the TV, before he tries closing them to the quiet lull of a news bulletin.

Then his phone rings.

He jolts, ripping the phone out of his jacket as quick as he can, looking over at Katniss and Finn. Katniss is the only one that seems disturbed.

"Hello?" Gale growls into the mouthpiece.

"Gale. Thank God I didn't catch you in a meeting. Listen. We need you back here, ASAP."

It's Jack. And compared to all the other thousand times he's called Gale, he hasn't sounded worried. Gale's exhaustion immediately fades and he sits up.

"What's wrong?"

"There's...something up with the community. Downtown. Some girl's got on top of her soapbox and she's created a crowd."

Gale almost makes it out of the living room before he stops. This doesn't sound very dangerous. Or worrying. Gale rubs at his eyes.

"This sounds like any ordinary thing -"

"No, you didn't let me finish. It's like...something's in the air. We can all feel it. And the people, some of their eyes are just blank and let me tell ya, Gale, it's fuckin' creepy. They look like robots."

Gale sighs. "How's that possible?"

"I don't know! That's why this is so bizarre. Pheromone engineering? Atmosphere toxicology? We're pulling theories out of our asses here."

Gales frustration rises. "How about you ask the girl on the box and stop making impossible theories?"

"...that's the thing," Jack says tersely. "We can't get closer than a 5 meter radius to her."

"Force fields now?" Gale says, sarcastically. "Wonderful."

"Just get down here, Gale," Jack says, starting to sound angry as well. "She's starting to talk about necessary means of destruction, and some people are agreeing."

"Fine," Gale says, leaning against a wall. "I'll catch the next train out."

"Great," Jack says, but he doesn't sound grateful. "Call me when you get here." Then he hangs up.

Gale pushes his phone back into his pocket, rubbing at his neck. He's all bundled up with tension, and it's a menace. He won't let the disturbances bother him, though – it's only some rebels with fancier weapons. They may have gotten a hold on pre-revolution technology, but that's only a minor inconvenience.

Stupid contracts, he thinks. Stupid, manic rebels. Stupid Katniss.

A hand lands on his shoulder. "Gale?"

He jumps, spinning around. Katniss instantly takes her hand back, bringing it to her chest.

"Oh, sorry," she says.

He shakes his head, ridding his thoughts. "I guess you can sneak up on me, too."

His joke goes unheard as she looks on with concern. "Was that Jack?"

"Yeah, that was him."

"What did he say? We have to leave?"

He sees the disappointment on her face, and he realizes that she's really come to like this place. He's gotten used to being the bearer of bad news, but her face is a much different one that he has to tell. It makes it a little hard.

"There are some disturbances in the downtown Capitol. They need me there as soon as I can make it. I'll have to call the train station and get the times, buy our tickets." A thought strikes him, as he looks at her glancing back to Finnick asleep on the couch.

"He's going to be upset."

Gale runs a hand through his hair. "He always is," he says. "You know, if you really like it here, you could…well, you could stay. For a while."

She looks back at him, her eyes a little wide. "What?"

He shrugs. "I can always come back by after all this settles down," he says, pausing. "Unless you feel up to going home."

The words he says make him ache, though he wills it away. He's spent more than enough quality time with her.

She furrows her brows. "I…I don't…"

"You won't hurt my feelings," he says, weaker than he likes. He smiles. "Besides, I don't control you. Do what you want."

He sees her eyes dart around the house, taking in the knick-knacks and the walls. She shifts and looks back to Finnick again, then looks up to Gale. "Gale – "

"Think about it," he says, taking a few steps from her and turning to walk toward the front door. "I've got to call the station."

Katniss watches him shut the door, and sees his silhouette outside the drapery of the window.

It's her chance to get away. It's so simple, so easy. He's given her a chance to back out, though she can't tell if he wants her to or not.

But if she's honest, she can say that she feels slightly better. She still feels the incomprehensible sadness, and the pains they leave in their wake. Last night felt like a bitter awakening of heavy heartbeats and tears, but she tried to remember every minute detail of Finnick's face, his smile, his easy charm, his happiness with Annie, however brief. The things she let herself keep locked away. It's funny how highly she regarded him as a person, and a friend, in the direst of circumstances. She had leeched onto him unintentionally, and she was paying the price, crying for him and mourning him.

Prim is still a little out of her reach, at some points, but it's a start.

So, maybe she could go home, if she wanted to. Maybe she could be alright. She feels like she can smile at Peeta more easily, if given the chance.

Could it have all been so straightforward? Could a week be all it takes? She still wonders if she has _it_, whatever it is. Whatever she lost, inside.

She shifts on her feet, looking once more at Finnick, then to the front door. She quickly goes to the door.

"Gale," she says, stepping out to the porch. "I'll go with you."

He looks over her, as if he's assessing her. She can hear chatter over the other line of his phone, but it takes him a moment to blink away from her.

"Uh, yes, sorry. I'll need two tickets, instead. Thanks."

He ends the call and cuts his eyes at her. ""You wanna go back to the Capitol?"

She smiles weakly. "You've already reserved the tickets."

"It doesn't matter," he says, looking out to the sidewalk. "Katniss," he hesitates. "You know you can leave whenever you want to. Nothing's holding you around except you. Not even Peeta."

She stares at the hard line of his jaw. "I know," she says. "And I'm going."

His glance is indecipherable. He says, "Alright. Grab your things and I'll find Annie. The train leaves in twenty minutes."

Their departure on the train is swift. Their goodbyes were brief and abrupt, though Annie's calm and complacent nature helped reign in Finnick's rowdy and upset one.

They have their own compartment again, Katniss guesses because of Gale's status with the government. The buffet table is gone, though there seems to be less space in this compartment as the one before. They end up not sitting very far from one another, Katniss staring at the town as they pass through it. Gale stares at the screen of his phone in idle contemplation.

"Sorry we had to leave Finnick so soon," Katniss says minutes later, taking her eyes off the window.

"Me too," he answers. "But I'll make the next visit longer."

She folds her hands in her lap. "Tell me the next time you come visit."

He gives her a funny look before smiling. "Alright," he says. "I will."

She glances to the carpet, rubbing one of her toes against it, feeling a bit embarrassed. "And thanks...for last night. I was...I was having a hard time - "

"Like I said," he interrupts, raising one hand. "I've got your back. When I think you're about to do something stupid, or are doing something stupid, I'll try to keep you from doing it. Even if you don't agree with me," he says. "You don't have to thank me for that."

Katniss sighs at this, glaring slightly at him. "And you don't have to keep telling me that. I'll thank you when I want to thank you."

He gives her a hard look. "I just want to be sure you know that."

"Yeah," she says after a moment, under her breath. "I do."

There's a wide pause in conversation after that, and Gale seems to take advantage of it the best he can. He stretches out over several seats, shifting every so often to get comfortable. Katniss watches him in amusement as he fails to find any sleep.

"Should have brought one of those pillows," she teases, eying his awkward posture.

He grunts. "Probably wouldn't help much."

"You never know," she says. "Pillows are supposed to support your head during sleep."

He looks at her tiredly. "I didn't know you could be so sarcastic."

"You might be rubbing off on me."

Gale closes his eyes again, a smile pulling at his lips. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

Katniss's face contorts. She's not sure, either. She's not sure about many things, suddenly. She never thought she'd feel comfortable sitting in a train and going to the Capitol with him. Much less thinking he looked very pitiful and vulnerable, sitting in a train and going to the Capitol. And never in a million years thinking that he might look attractive, with the sunshine lighting his face through the wide windows.

She's always known he was attractive. The whispers in school were enough. The rumors about the slag heap more than qualified him to be the guy to get with, back when they were teenagers, and she sometimes wondered what the other girls were so excited about when they gushed over Gale's kisses and touches.

Maybe she was too much of a tomboy back then. She hadn't realized the extent of female hormones until...well, until Peeta came along. Her emotions always seemed to run a bit deeper than superficial, eager and fleeting desires. She loved Gale as her friend once, and nothing more. She never loved Peeta, ever, until he...crept up on her. She can safely say she first desired, truly desired, Peeta on that beach in the Quarter Quell. Mixed with the wonderment of not knowing if they would die, using up the last of her feelings in case she didn't make it out. They were her basest instincts. Her desires and emotions amplified by the pressure of the unknown.

She had desired Gale in the first arena. She missed him - and missing him made her cling to his memory, and clinging made her want him. She can't say she never imagined kissing Gale when she was kissing Peeta in that cave, wondering for the first time in her life what she had missed out on, what all those girls had been in knots over, if she never made it back home to him.

Had her emotions ever not been acted on by the pressure of death? They've never been normal, never been acted on by _only_ her. Had she never realized that? If there had been no Hunger Games, and if she wasn't stressed into loving Peeta, if Gale and her had remained friends...what would have been her natural flow of emotion? Would she have had any at all?

Would either of them have fit inside her heart?

"I've been wondering...remember the night at the bar?" she asks, watching the distant ocean pass under her.

Gale blinks his eyes open, placing one hand under his head, letting the other arm dangle near the floor. "Yeah...why?"

"Well, I noticed Reeva was kind of mad..."

Gale smiles wryly. "She's always mad about something."

She frowns a little, shifting to look at him. "What did you guys fight about?"

The answer is so obviously simple, he isn't sure why she hasn't figured it out already. "You."

"What?"

"I had to tell her about our living arrangements," he sighs. "A hard thing, with her."

Katniss cringes at the thought. "Sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," he says, shaking his head. "It was bound to happen eventually."

"Still. I don't...want to come in between you and her like that."

There's a few seconds of silence while Gale thinks of what to say. Reeva has always been a bit of a jealous person. She likes a spotlight. And Gale has wondered time and again if she stays around because it's harder to achieve that spotlight with him. Sometimes, he's wondered if dating was only a game to her, but other times he's wondered if she really likes him and doesn't know what to do with her feelings. Gale understands what that's like, and he knows the uncertainty of not knowing where a person's priorities lie. One day, so sure of knowing they love you, the next in utter limbo of chaotic feelings.

He's thought of telling her that he doesn't love her, but there's something...something he can't let go of, in Reeva.

He watches as Katniss makes patterns on the crystal window.

"You're not," he answers. "She's always unpredictable, but she's consistent in forgiveness."

"She...doesn't seem like she'd forgive easily," she hesitates.

"It takes her a few days," he says, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "But she unwinds. Watch, I'll bet you five bucks that she calls me before tomorrow."

She smiles a little at that, but she's persistent in her concern. "I don't know. I'm still going to be around. I haven't left yet, and I don't think..."

"Listen, Catnip," he says, pulling himself to sit up. "The only reason that she's jealous is because she doesn't trust me with you. We've...had a past, and she knows we've had a past." When he looks up, he avoids her gaze. "She thinks I still have feelings for you, and that I don't have the capacity to control them."

_Do you?_ are the first words that ring in her mind, and she wonders about saying them, out loud. Wouldn't he care about her, just a little, to put up with her? Isn't that what he said in so many words, last night?

She still feels his comforting palm on her chest, and its warmth, and how it held her together like glue.

She takes in a soft breath. "Do you still have feelings?"

He doesn't seem to have anticipated the question, but he's good at digesting it. It doesn't seem to bother him.

"Not like that," he answers, looking at the ceiling. "Not in the way Reeva thinks I do."

"Oh," she says. "But you still..."

He glances at her, and he gives her a funny look. "I've never hated you, Katniss, if that's what you're trying to say."

She stares back at him. "Then I guess that was just me, then."

"Yeah," he says, "just you."

She fidgets in her seat, desperately wanting to tell him...to admit that...that she doesn't want to hate him, anymore. It's strange how she's so nervous about it, and how the words defy her tongue.

"What about you and Johanna?" she blurts, instead. "You seem like close friends. Shouldn't Reeva be jealous of her?"

Gale smiles amusedly at this. "She was, once. Now they tend to avoid each other."

Katniss has to admit that she's been curious about them, even though this wasn't the way the conversation was supposed to go. "Why?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but Johanna really can't stand her. Reeva can't stand anyone who doesn't like her, so they both keep to themselves."

Well, maybe she did notice that. It wasn't exactly a humble display of affection at the bar.

"But what about you and Johanna?"

Gale looks at her. "What _about_ us?"

Its like he's challenging her. She steels her resolve.

"Did you ever...do anything with her?"

"_Do_ anything?" He laughs. "What do you mean? Tickle her?"

Katniss glares. "Gale..."

His teasing runs dry as he turns serious. "A little."

Her eyes narrow at his admittance. "A little what?"

"You sure are curious today."

"I've always been curious," she says, fingers automatically finding her braid, twisting at a few loose strands. "I just never asked."

Gale crosses his arms over his chest. He seems to think for a few moments, glancing around the compartment. "Before Reeva and I were ever serious, Johanna and I would spend time together. It was when she just started the squad. I...we kind of clicked. Not surprising, I guess. We both have a lot of things in common."

Katniss pulls off the tie in her hair, untwisting the ends, then twisting them back up. "That's all you did?"

"No," Gale says, sinking deeper into his seat. "She'd come to my apartment sometimes. We'd talk. We'd...be there, for each other."

Gale hopes she can read in between the lines. It isn't as if he could tell her exactly what they'd do.

But he can remember it. He remembers lying in bed with her, the sun lazily fighting through his blinds onto the carpet in orange lines. She'd look up at him through her lashes, and smile, and tell him all about her. He'd tell her things about him, too. It was intimate, and nice, and something that he needed. It was something she needed, too, because at the end of the day, they both said goodbye to each other. Neither of them overstayed their welcome, at any time. But it made them closer with something mutually shared, and Gale would easily say that he loved her. Still loves her.

They are friends, after all. But in time of desperation and inconsolable feelings, sex is something that quenches the thirst. Johanna, it turns out, is just as simple as him - unfettered by the complication of falling in love, again, and to ignore the unwanted.

It might be easier for her - all that she loved had died. Gale's is still living.

When Reeva entered the fray again, it was easy to stop for both of them. It was...refreshing, how it worked out. It made Gale a believer in friends with benefits, though he'd been accustomed to that growing up as well. Making ties and cutting them without a flicker of thought. He'd become a professional at not feeling the thick emotions of taking a connection and keeping it.

Perhaps that was why he never could get over Katniss fully. He snared her so completely in his heart that he hadn't realized he'd done it. There were no serious kisses, no immediate shows of affection, but it was terrifyingly incapable of leaving him unscathed.

He's made sex and kissing trivial, though he knows it won't be if he gets to do it with her, and perhaps only her.

But those are things he won't let himself think, as he contemplates his next words.

"We're really great friends. It was just a short time of...getting to know each other better," he says.

"Ah," Katniss says, staring at her hair wrapped around her fingers. He can't tell if she understands him. "Do you know if she likes Anton?"

Gale smiles a little at this. "I think she's scared of Anton."

"Scared? _Johanna_?"

Gale laughs slightly. "Scared as in, she doesn't want to give into him. Commitment is a big thing. Denial is easy, if you know how to play it."

Katniss thinks she's pretty good at denial. But it's a nasty habit, always eating at every uncertain thought. She's a bit glad she's been trying to give it up.

"I hope she gives in soon," she says, looking at him. "Anton is a nice guy."

"He's alright," Gale counters.

"I like him," she says easily.

He glances at her, frowning. "Really?"

She shrugs. "Why not?"

"I've heard that we're kind of alike."

"Maybe," she says. Then she catches his eye. "Maybe that's why I like him."

Gale stares dumbfounded for a moment, before he shakes his head. "You don't have to say that."

"I don't," she declares. "But it's true."

Gale blinks away from her, smiling close-lipped, and says, "You're one of a kind, Catnip."

She half-smiles.

His eyes find the end of her braid on the seat beside him, part of it still half done while her fingers weave it back together.

"You should leave your hair loose, sometime," he says, deciding to forgo thinking. If he thinks too much about her now...

Her smile fades. "What?"

"Your hair," he says, flicking the tip of it. "You don't have to keep it in a braid all the time."

"But I always have it in a braid."

His eyes are that glowing silver again. Perhaps that's always been their color, and she's just now noticing. He's close enough to her to be able to see their softness.

"Change can be good," he says lightly. "Even if you don't like it at first."

Then he looks away from her. Her eyes dart to the loose hair hanging in her lap, her fingers tangled in the strands. She pauses in their assault, looking up to Gale's passive face.

She starts to re-braid the strands, though the thought remains between them.

* * *

It's snowing.

She wakes up to find the window blaring white against her eyes, and her head on Gale's shoulder. His body rises in the soft murmur of sleep, while Katniss's eyes widen, and she hurriedly moves her head off him. Her movement rocks him awake, too.

He rubs at his eyes and looks over to her, blinking away the sleep. She stares at him, but she quickly recovers, using the weather to her advantage.

"Look, it's snowing."

Gale rolls his shoulder, glancing outside. "It _is_ winter."

Katniss shakes her head. "I guess...District 4 was so mild. It reminded me of spring."

"District 4 tends to be like that all year round. Except in summer. It rains a lot," he says, stretching out his arms and legs. He looks down at his shoulder, then says, "You drooled on me."

Katniss takes her eyes away from the window, staring at him, then to his shirt. She feels herself involuntarily flush at the dark spot on his arm.

"Um..." she splutters. "Sorry."

He looks at her for a second longer. Then he starts laughing.

"I didn't know you _drooled_."

"I don't!" she counters, then retracts. "Well, I don't _usually_."

"Should I check your pillows at the apartment?"

Her face remains red, though it's more because of anger than embarrassment. Or maybe it's both. "I didn't drool on those."

"Drool doesn't dry transparent."

She crosses her arms. "Then you won't find any evidence," she says.

"The drool on my shirt is enough," he says back, and much to her disconcertment, he starts pulling his shirt over his head.

"Gale, what are you..."

He wads up his shirt, putting it in the chair beside him before reaching for his sack. He pulls out the one he wore from the day before, going to put it on. Katniss isn't sure that she likes how she notices what he looks like, shirtless.

"I'd rather not wear your spit," he says.

She glances at his shoulder, noticing that he's removed his stitches. The skin is a little red around the healing holes, but otherwise, they look just fine. She concentrates on them instead of his chest, and she notices the scarring on the other shoulder, a slight discoloration from his skin that never left. Her mind strays to that day Peeta was saved from the Capitol, and she can't believe she forgot Gale had gone. He'd had surgery. She didn't visit him. She blinks and looks away once he gets his shirt on.

"Your wounds have healed," she states as he starts buttoning up.

"Yeah," he says, glancing at her. "It's not going to scar."

"I never wanted it to scar."

He smiles a little. "Guess not. Why did you stitch me up, anyway?" He pauses. "You didn't have to."

His stare is unrelenting. She looks to the snow for answers.

"I don't know," she remarks truthfully. "Maybe I thought...Well, I was sure I'd never see you again after those days you were in the District. It was kind of...an impulsive thing."

"Impulsive?"

"Yes," she says, gaining confidence. "It was just something I felt I needed to do, after I shot you."

He contemplates this for a few moments, looking at his boots. If he always went with his impulses, she'd probably be on the floor right now. Or compromised on her chair. Either way.

"Thanks," he ends up with. "I mean, you didn't have to, but you did. So, thanks."

She tries to give him a small smile, and he returns it.

* * *

When they make it out of the station, there's a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Gale can feel it, sense it, as suddenly as he can feel the bite of the wind chill and the snow. The air is heavy, as if it's a muggy day in summer. It hits his back like colossal rocks, and it makes him more than a little uneasy. The cold gives him nausea.

"Gale?" Katniss asks softly as they shuffle to his apartment. "What's...what's wrong?"

She can feel it, too. It's like breathing in sawdust. She sneezes.

"That's what I'm going to find out," he says.

"This is what Jack called about?"

"Yeah..." he says, looking around. There's not many people out, but the ones that are seem a bit despondent, sluggish. Then again, it's hard to tell in the white of the winter.

"Is it making you feel sick?" she asks, gripping at her stomach.

"Some. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says. "Queasy. It's not bad."

Once they make it to the apartment, Gale grabs a larger jacket and the mittens Posy gave him those few years ago. Katniss huffs a breath, feeling exponentially better. The air in his apartment tastes untouched. Her ill feelings vanish.

"Don't leave this apartment," Gale says, making his way to the door again and pulling out his phone. "Whatever it is outside, it's probably detrimental to health."

Sarcasm, again, she thinks. He's a little too good at it. Katniss shakes her head, following him to the door. "I don't think you'll have to worry about me leaving."

Gale laughs. "Never thought I'd hear you say that."

Katniss furrows her brows, then blinks at her words. "Oh," she says, trying to laugh. It comes out a little weak.

He opens the door, turning to face her. "If you need something, or if something happens, or anything else, just call me. Okay?"

She stares at him, suddenly struck by his seriousness. She nods.

"Okay," he says, then he smiles and the seriousness is gone. "I'll be back before dinner. Don't burn my house down while I'm gone."

She's not sure why it's so hard to smile back at him. She thinks it's because the door's open, and it's letting the nervous in, the anxious. She can almost see the wind's spindly fingers crawling on the carpet, finding her boots, seeping through her jeans.

"I won't," she breathes out, feeling worried, scared, over nothing at all.

"Good," he says. Then he turns to the outside.

"Be careful," she blurts, hurriedly, before he closes the door.

He looks back to her. "Don't let it get to you. I'll be fine," he says simply. "See you in a few hours."

The door closes, and she immediately feels the knots disappear, again. She breathes out, cleansing her lungs, and sighs.

When the clock strikes seven, she's on the couch, staring at the TV. It's seven-thirty. It's eight.

She glances at her phone, finds Gale's number, then places it back on the table.

He's fine. Fine.

But Gale never comes back that night.

* * *

"What do you mean, she asked for me?" Gale shouts.

They've holed up in one of their underground housing units. It's mostly a safety precaution - it's their secret meeting site if things get rough. Most close employees of Paylor had to evacuate to other areas because of the bomb threat on the Capitol house. Somehow, they'd gotten their bombs all set in or around Paylor's regulated working place. At least, allegedly.

It's a pain and an inconvenience. Gale pulls at his hair in frustration.

"Well, not _specifically_, and not _asking_, really, but she did mention you," Jack says, leaning back in his chair. "Something about forcing your hand, or some shit. All black hair and demonic looking eyes. She was really into it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she really likes you."

Gale glares.

"Should've seen it though," Anton says from the corner of the room. "She had doves flying all around her at certain parts of her speech. Freedom talk and all that. A fucking circus act."

Gale crosses his arms, glancing at Paylor. "Did you get to talk to her at all?"

"Only what we've told you," she says. "She ignored us, mostly. The nausea got unbearable after a while, so we rotated."

"And she was up there for two hours?" Gale asks in disbelief.

"Some people threw up," Johanna says, staring a hole into the floor. Her eyes are glazed in thoughts. "But they stayed there, like they couldn't get away."

"Seemed like brainwashing," Bolts speaks up, gruffly. "Only, up close. A personal kind of brainwashing. Didn't do anything to me, though. Not like it did to the rest of the populace."

Gale sighs, running a hand behind his neck. "Pre-revolutionary technology, then?"

"Most likely," Paylor answers. "We weren't able to discard all of it. It's easily manipulated, too. There are endless possibilities to the things Snow had his scientists create."

Snow. All that white cluttering snow, like dandruff and sawdust.

"Was it snowing when she was speaking?" Gale asks suddenly.

"Yeah..." Johanna says. "The whole time. But it started before she showed up."

"Doesn't matter," Gale says. "It's in the snow. Somehow. I don't know how they did it, but it's gotta be..."

"There's no way they can control the weather like that, Gale," Jack says. "I mean, at least...unless it's God or something, but I don't really swing that way in the belief department..."

Gale rolls his eyes. "What did Snow use for the arenas? He changed the weather all the time. He did whatever he wanted. He..."

"This isn't an arena, Gale," Johanna shifts, placing her feet on the ground, her elbows on her knees. "There's no way they could project something of that enormity around the Capitol."

Gale bites the inside of his cheek. "But couldn't it be only over a certain area? It doesn't have to be a large space. It could be a few square miles. Did anything happen outside of downtown?"

"It wasn't snowing, if that's what you mean," Anton says. "At least, not at the time Jack called me."

"And none of our people called in any disturbances," Paylor says. She looks a little worse for wear. "It was only here."

"Because this is where the government is," Bolts says, rubbing at the light beard on his chin. "But it makes you wonder how big this group really is."

A thickness spreads over them for a few minutes. Johanna kicks at a stray rock on the dirt ground.

"Well, I think this group is made of chicks," Johanna says, breaking the silence. "Pretty ones, too. I think it's on purpose. This one had black hair. The other one had blonde hair. The next might have red hair." She looks pointedly to Gale. "You know who else has red hair?"

Gale grits his teeth. It...isn't as if he's never entertained the idea. Reeva, as up and down as she is - she could be a part in something like this. Getting close to the squad, knowing them, fucking him. Sure - if she had the determination and the scheming and the absolute loyalty toward whatever this group was, Gale's got a feeling she could do it.

But he's not sure. And certainty is key.

"They could be for the show," Gale says. "There's always a mastermind with these kinds of things. The people behind the scenes could be close to us."

Gale looks to Paylor. Like Coin's old advisors. All it takes is one saboteur.

And Gale never trusted Coin that much to begin with. She was sneaky and unsuspecting. A pseudo-ruler, trying to take the reigns from Snow, though she slipped right in with everyone's hatred toward him. But she wanted it - the power and his castle, to be a queen. As more and more days passed in the war, Gale could almost feel that ambition from her whenever he was called to her office. She started to crack. She started to show all those things she was so good at hiding. Those brief flashes in her eyes. The twists in her smile.

He feels so stupid that he was never able to realize it. Though, no one else seemed to realize it, either. War is a very heavy distraction. It was too good of a distraction. She used it to her advantage. Who could have predicted that Snow was a scapegoat in Coin's plan?

They've talked about it before, the squad. And they've talked about how nothing like that can happen ever again. There can't ever be too much power placed in too little hands. Distribution must be regulated and suspicion must be scouted out and dispatched, quickly and cleanly.

They've done a thorough job with making sure of loyalty. Gale isn't sure that the mastermind could be working for Paylor. A volunteer, maybe. Someone inside, but not close. Not close enough to stare over Paylor's shoulder. That might be too much temptation. Someone would have to have a tremendous amount of self-control and vigilance if they saw Paylor every day and made no move to kill her.

Surely they had patience. But even Gale could see the flaws in a plan like that.

"I don't think it's an advisor, Paylor," Anton says, his boot tapping the wall rhythmically. "These guys have patience, but not that much patience. And they like dramatic showing. They like letting us know what we've missed."

"But we shouldn't count anyone out," she says, tersely.

Gale looks over to Anton, and Anton shares his glance. A stressed Paylor is a vulnerable Paylor, and it's a hard thing to get her stressed.

"I can guard you, if you want," Anton says, pushing off the wall. "Four eyes are better than two."

Paylor looks over to Anton, and her eyes narrow in thought.

"It isn't a bad idea," she says, slowly. "But I've never had any of you guard me before."

"Better safe than sorry," Jack sings out. "None of us want you gettin' in the line of fire, Paylor."

"We'd be stupid if we weren't cautious," Johanna says. "Besides, Panem needs you. Who'd take your place? Sure as hell wouldn't be me."

"It wouldn't be any of us," says Bolts. "If you need me, just say the word."

"Or me," says Johanna.

"Or me," Gale says.

Jack sighs at all of them. "_Fine_. Or _me_."

Paylor, in all of their surprise, gives them all a brief smile.

"I would expect no less," she says, authoritatively. And protectively. "Now," she says. "We have to go over what we know. It's little, and there's hardly any evidence besides them having expensive and dangerous technology."

"And girls gone wild," Jack says. "Literally. If they weren't hell bent on making us explode, I'd fuck all of them."

Johanna punches him. "Nobody cares, Jack."

Anton laughs.

"Gale..." Paylor starts, ignoring them. "Keep an eye on Reeva. You never know."

Gale sighs. "Yeah, I know."

"See if she ever gives anything away. Start a simple conversation with her about it, make her think you're worried. See where it goes."

"I will."

"Bolts," she says. "Look up the name Dione. See if that ties in with the mythology of Calypso."

"Dione?" Gale asks.

"That black-haired girl's name," Jack pipes up. "She gave hers, too."

"Huh. What about Calypso?"

"Calypso was some crazy nymph that held some guy named Odysseus hostage for seven years," Anton says. "But the guy slept with her the whole time, so I guess she wasn't all that bad."

Gale narrows his eyes at the information. "Thanks for not telling me sooner."

Anton blinks at him. Then he grins. "Oh. Heh. Sorry. Didn't realize there was a connection there."

"Maybe they're sisters, or related somehow," Johanna ponders aloud. "It'd make sense, wouldn't it? These girls together, acting like they're important. If I had a sister, I'd probably go along with stupid things she'd do."

"I'm on it. I'll look over things tonight," Bolts says.

"Good," Paylor nods, sighing. "Do we know how tracking went with...Dione?"

Johanna frowns. "No. She lost her trailers pretty quick. They told me it was like she vanished. Too many birds obscuring their path."

"Wonderful," Paylor scoffs. "Then that leaves us with you, Gale. Try your best. And please do be subtle about it?"

Gale smiles at her. "I won't make any promises."

* * *

Gale leaves soon after, finding the path to his apartment quickly, falling into the old routine. The darkness isn't a hindrance as much as it is a cloud from the snow. The effect of it has lessened. Breathing comes easier, and the nausea has turned into a weak headache behind his eyes.

He passes a few openings of alleys. They all look the same - black holes in the walls. Spaces. He almost misses it. There's a flicker in one, and a soft crunch on the snow. He stops walking. His eyes don't adjust fast enough to see anything inside the inky hollow, and he lets himself walk away slowly.

One foot, two feet...

He turns around fast, pulling his gun from the belt of his pants and aiming it into a face.

Her eyes gleam up at him, a dagger at his throat as quickly as his gun is at hers.

She smiles, and it's synthetic under the streetlamps.

"Oh, hello, Gale," she breathes excitedly. "I've been wondering where you've been hiding."

Gale presses the gun harder into her...skin. It bounces against the barrel like...metal.

"I've been wondering the same thing," he growls.

"I'm flattered," she purrs. "You know my name, don't you?"

She doesn't match any of the descriptions they have so far. Her hair looks silver, under her hood. Her eyes gleam an electric blue. There's a light that glows against the lines of her teeth, as if a light bulb is hiding at the roof of her mouth.

"Sorry," he says. "You're not that memorable."

She tuts at him, cutting a slither in his skin. Blood runs down his neck.

"I knew Rodriguez was a little dull," she chastises. "But not you. You're a clever one."

"Thanks," he says, trying to pull off a charming smile. "I don't know if I can say the same about you, though, Calypso."

She purrs at the name. "So you do know me."

"I know far too little," Gale answers. "But I'd love to know more."

"Oh," she moans. "You're a tempting thing. No wonder it's so hard for her."

Gale's eyes narrow.

She laughs, and it pierces his ears. "I wish I could tell you, but..." she stops, dipping her head to lick the wound on his neck. Gale keeps himself from jerking away, and he releases the safety on his gun.

"But?" he asks, his voice rough.

"But you're so intimidating and tall," she says, her lips closing as she tastes his blood. "And you taste very good. Maybe if you had one modicum of intelligence, less..."

At her words, Gale suddenly feels a twinge of something. It hits his eyes briefly, but it's only a flicker. He isn't sure what it is.

He's got to act fast.

"I can shoot you as easily as you can kill me," Gale whispers harshly. "So how about a truce?"

Each of her eyes looks to his, his left, then right, then left again. "Truce?"

"You answer my questions, and I'll fuck you for seven years. I won't shoot you, and you won't kill me."

She chuckles deeply at his words. Her eyes brighten with interest, and they glow as if they contain a fuse inside them.

"You've studied. How attractive," she whispers back. "I'm sure those seven years would be the time of our lives. But I'm not in this for a broken heart."

"Who says you have a heart?" he asks, making a show of looking her up and down. "You're a metal casing."

Her eyes gleam at this, an angered tinge boiling up to the surface. "Like a bullet," she says, cutting him again. A heavier flow of blood falls. "Shoot me with one of yours," she challenges. "Watch what I do."

Gale smiles. "I'm not one for harming a lady."

"It won't harm me. Not at all." She tilts her head, and she reaches up with her other hand, thumbing his finger over the trigger. "Blow my head off," she sneers, words slicing like her knife.

Gale blinks again, and the twinge grows in his belly.

"No."

She presses against his finger harder. "Yes," she hisses.

"Not until you tell me what I want to know."

She smiles meanly at him. "Even if I did, Gale," she says, her tongue slithering over his name like velvet. He likes the way her voice sounds when she says his name. "You won't remember. You poor, poor thing."

She cuts his neck again, three small waterfalls splashing onto the cloth of his coat.

He concentrates, not letting the haze control his mind. "I won't?"

"Mm," she puckers. "No."

He presses the trigger. She stumbles five feet away from him, with a newly opened hole on her silver neck - he can see it now, underneath the glistening of the snow and the burnt cloth covering her. It's all wires and bolts and nuts inside her. He thinks he sees some vermilion of flesh, some bits and pieces that look like a human, but the metals do a good job in keeping them hidden. The slick metal of her neck regenerates after a few seconds, sealing up the broken wires.

She twitches her head a little, and the wound is gone.

"Impressed?"

Gale lowers his gun. He stares at her, gauging at what points he should shoot. He lifts the gun and puts a bullet into her head, then he lowers it and puts one in her chest.

The head shot ruins her face, but the metal grows back just like her neck. There is no heart in her chest, but he guesses there must be a battery somewhere, if she doesn't run on blood and brain.

Once her mouth grows back, she starts to laugh loudly.

"I'm impressed now," Gale says, once she looks to him. Her eyes are filled with amusement. "Disgusted, but impressed. What'd they do to you? Put your real body in a tube?"

Her smile turns into an ugly grimace. "Please. I know you think I'm beautiful."

"I prefer women with brains."

She gnashes her teeth together in a growl. "Don't hide in your sarcasm. Let yourself_ feel._"

He knows what she's talking about. It's becoming harder and harder to focus.

"I've tried," he says. "I can't feel a thing."

"Then I guess I'll have to fix that," she says, taking a few steps forward, slowly and loudly, before she smiles for a second, and he anticipates her throw - but he's sluggish when he moves and his reaction time is stilted. The dagger spears into his lower ribs - he hears the crunch before he feels the pain, and his hand grips the hilt of it.

To pull it out or leave it in? Either way, he isn't sure what organs it hit, if she hit an important artery.

"You feel it now, Gale?" She walks up to him, and suddenly there's two of her. His vision is shot.

He grins sloppily. "A few inches higher, and you'd've hit my heart."

She reaches out and curls her hand over his cheek. She plumps out her lips, and coos, "I didn't want to kill you, Gale, oh, no. Why would you think that?"

He chuckles into her hand. "You're gorgeous."

At this, she gives him a rewarding smile. "You're adorable when you want to be."

"Tell me," he mumbles. "Why wasn't it you? Why weren't you the one that wanted to get close to me?"

She can see her frown, still. He can still see her face. It's blurred now, and his hand is still on the hilt of the knife. She stops caressing his cheek.

"Your tenacity is inspiring. Still trying to get information out of me." She shakes her head. "You don't believe me now, but you won't remember, darling."

"Tell me," he says, persistently. "I want to know."

She crouches in front of him. "She'd stoke the fire in you. You were losing it, and we wanted it back at full force. We needed this," she says, and he feels her cold, metal fingers pushing onto his chest. "And we didn't have it. She was the best candidate."

Gale smirks. "I'm not so sure. Your _passion_ is..._inspiring_," he says, copying her words. She laughs softly at this.

"You're slurring. And I didn't think you could get any cuter." She pauses. "I was still human back then. I think I could handle you, now. But now we don't even need her."

Gale's eyes keep closing. He tries to shake himself awake. "Why not?"

Then he can see her grin - it's wicked enough even through his kaleidoscope vision.

"Because we have someone else."

"...what?"

"I think you know who," she says, her voice smooth and butter against his ears. "She's the one you've loved your whole life."

Gale blinks a few times, his vision clearing fractionally. Inside him, he can feel anger and worry coalescing into sobriety. Whatever is inside him is taken over by his sudden spike in adrenaline.

He pulls out the knife, and he sticks it into her shoulder. She squeaks in surprise, and he takes his chance by grabbing her, pulling her down into the snow with him. He uses his leverage to push her face into the snow, in a final attempt to overpower her.

But she flings him off her, and he flies into the wall of the alley. He feels the wind leave him, and his back arches from the stress of breathing.

Calypso fixes her hair back into her hood, smoothing down her trench coat, and grinning down to Gale, who's still writhing from the impact.

"I underestimated you a tiny bit, I'm afraid," she says, crouching down close to him. "I didn't realize you were so...lively." She tilts her head at him. "So...tough. Hm. That might be a problem."

He feels her fingers find the wound in his ribs, and she plunges them into the cut. Gale screams out, his hand finding her metal throat. But it's a useless grasp. He feels her fingers snap a few more of his ribs, as easy as bending her fingers, and his vision sways with black tendrils.

He wheezes painfully. When she's satisfied she takes them out and wipes them on her coat. Then her hands move to one of his shoulders, and he tries to move - tries to get away from her, but he's stuck where is, as if he's chest deep in mud.

She places her hands just so - then she pulls and twists. The pop tells him enough. His arm won't work even if he tries to use it.

She assesses him for a few moments. She looks at his knees for a while, thinks about them, but she backs off. "Better. You won't be much of a protector for a while."

His teeth are clamped so tightly, only frustrated groans pass through his lips. Blood puddles around his tongue. He tries to move his arms, then his legs, but he finds they're too leaden, like they're filled with mercury, and he can't - he can't do anything. He can't do a thing. He's never been so vulnerable.

He may die here.

"Oh, I'd never let you do that," she says, shaking her head at him. Did he say that out loud? How?

"You're a little too valuable. I'm only playing with you a little bit."

Then she reaches over into one of his pockets, searching around a few until she pulls his phone from his jeans.

He can't tell, but he thinks she might be plugging the phone into her wrist. She hits a few buttons, waits a few seconds, then unplugs it.

"It's simple knowing names and numbers. I'm a phone, too," she says, happily, dropping his phone onto his stomach. "Now...I guess this is goodbye." She smiles. "This was fun. Much funner than Rodriguez. Maybe I'll get to see you soon."

She stands up, and her voice is muffled as she takes slow steps away from him. He swears there's a dial tone crowding his ears...but it's black everywhere. He can't remember where he is.

"Yes, officer? I think I heard a gunshot near my house. I'm too scared to look myself - I...oh, yes, near the corner of Park and Harte...yes, please, come right away..."

Gale's ears give out on him, too, and he turns blind and deaf.

He can't remember when he closes his eyes.

* * *

a/n; i actually love gale. no, really.

anon review replies:

anon: incoherency is the highest form of flattery. ;D haha, i think i was half-asleep when i read your review. it took me a while to realize what was happening.

mae: about time is right. katniss = denial forever and eternity. but yes, she really needed some closure. and for that pillow fight, i'm pretty sure they got extremely hot and sweaty and started taking off their clothes. ;D

Nicole: i never know how to answer you except with like, emoticons and happy faces. so like, :DDDDDD! 8) :) ^_^ but i'm sure you'd be able to write a fluent story. trust me, if i can pull it off, so can you. :)

meow: :)

everyturnasurprise: i just can't help myself, sometimes. ;D and progress. yes. it's getting somewhere ~ yayyy.

Jamie: i do have a problem with the 'Gale apologizes and everything's okay and, look, Peeta's gone, too!' stories, mostly because there are so many of them. not that i can't read them, though, because i have no problem if i need something gale/katniss-y. ;) and thank you a bunch for your kind words. i say this to everyone who gives me compliments, but really, they mean a lot. it's a huge boost each time i read them. especially about characterization. and haha about Reeva. i've got a feeling many don't like her.


	16. old flame

a/n; i've heard somewhere that "a drunken mind speaks a sober heart."

chapter sixteen - old flame

'you are my sweetest downfall.  
i loved you first.' - regina spektor, samson

* * *

Katniss jolts awake to rapid knocks at the front door. She stumbles to sit up, rubbing at her face and glancing at the clock on the wall. It was nearing ten-thirty.

When had she fallen asleep? Her phone's in her lap, and when she flicks it on, Gale's name flashes on the screen, his number waiting to be called.

The knocks sound again. Katniss shoves the phone into her jean pocket, standing up quickly and making her way to the door. Maybe it's Gale - it should be Gale, but why would he not have a key?

She opens the door, huddling back against the dark chill that enters the room, to see Johanna and Anton. Anton is turned sideways, talking to someone on the phone. They both look very somber.

Katniss's stomach clutches, her muscles squirming.

"Johanna," she mutters. "What's..."

"We need to go to the hospital," Johanna says clipped. "Come on. Grab your jacket. Paylor's already over there."

Katniss blinks, going for her jacket automatically. "Hospital? Who - "

"Gale," she says. "Now hurry up so we can go."

It's tense with mottled nerves in the taxi. Their breaths mingle together, and they make Katniss lightheaded.

"What happened to him?" she asks quietly.

"We don't know," Anton says, gruff. "Didn't look very pretty, lying there in the snow."

Katniss stares at him.

"He was airlifted," Johanna says. "Unconscious. Bleeding everywhere. Breathing, but shallow."

"Never thought Gale would be the one to need a bodyguard," Anton says softly, staring at the black leather of the seat. "I should have walked back with him."

"Gale is the last person we need to look out for," Johanna answers sharply, glaring at him. "He's gotten into worse scrapes before. He'll be fine. All we need to do is wake him up so he can tell us what happened."

"As long as he wakes up," Anton glares back. "We don't know what was in his system. Did you not see his face, Johanna? Blue veins from the neck up - "

"Yes, I saw, Anton," she bites out. "And like I said, he'll be fine."

Anton rubs roughly at his cheek and his hair. He looks at Johanna for a while, and Katniss thinks he might grab her hand or kiss her cheek, but he doesn't do anything. He crosses his arms, and he looks out the window beside him.

Katniss copies him, looking out her own window, seeing nothing but black and glittering lights from the city. She blinks at her thoughts, imagining Gale black and blue and broken. Holes punctured in his body, broken nose, ears bleeding. Things worse than what he might look like - but what if he's worse than she imagines? What if he's beyond repair?

He could be in a coma. He might not wake up.

Katniss stares at the soft, falling snow, blankly. She sees her reflection in the window, mirrored back to her. She sees a ghost. She sees fear.

* * *

His room is on the ICU floor. She doesn't remember the number on the button they pushed, but she remembers the pristine white of the elevator doors, and the dim lighting glow on the carpet.

The smell through the hallway is bitter in a tangible form. Bleach and sick people and blood. Her nerves multiply under her nausea.

They find Paylor, Bolts, and Jack sitting in chairs outside the door. Jack's got a cigarette in his lap, twitching like bugs are crawling all over him. She's never seen him smoke before, though he only stares at it, then disdainfully at the sign above him, warning against it.

Bolts has his arms crosses, and is staring at the door.

Paylor is the only one that seems untouched by the emotion. She acknowledges them as they make their way over, assessing them and nodding to Katniss.

"What's the verdict?" Anton asks.

"They're working on him right now," Paylor says, shaking her head. "Some type of poison they found. They're flushing him out, right now. Half of his ribs are broken, and he had a dislocated shoulder, but they fixed that in the hover."

"Shit," Johanna says. "What'd they do, push him off a building?"

"Hard to tell what happened at all. The poison, though, was from some knife or dagger. He's got a nasty stab wound."

Katniss has to walk away from their conversation. She makes her way to sit by Jack, who tries and fails to smile at her.

"Hey, Katniss."

"Hi, Jack."

"We missed you this morning. How was District 4?"

She pulls her knees up to her chest. "Fine."

"See Annie?"

"Yeah," she says, looking at him. "How'd you know?"

"Met her a few times," he says, rolling his head back onto the top of his chair. "Gale introduced us. Cute kid."

Katniss nods, thinking back to Finnick and feeling a sudden, desperate sadness.

"I didn't know you smoked," she says.

He glances over to her, then smirks, grabbing the cigarette in his lap in between his fore finger and thumb. He surveys it.

"I don't," he says. "Been off 'em for two and a half years, now."

She watches as his fingers shake and tremble, and the cigarette falls back into his lap.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to start again, though."

"I'm glad you stopped," she says, trying to give him an earnest look. "It's a bad habit."

He chuckles. "Any habit can be a bad one."

Katniss examines the profile of his face. Then she reaches over and grabs the cigarette from his leg, and he looks to her in surprise.

"I've never smoked before," she admits, looking at the toxin in her hand. "Do you like smoking?"

Jack smiles. "It's awful," he says. "But it makes you feel better."

She stares at him, then to the cigarette. "I want to try it."

His smile falls. "No, you don't."

"I think I'd know what I want to do," she retaliates.

Jack sighs. "Gale would skin me alive if he knew I got you hooked on cigs."

"It wouldn't be your fault," she says, voice steely. "It'd be mine."

"But I would have given you your first. Guilt by association, Katniss."

"Maybe," she says, bringing it up to her nose to smell it. Her nose wrinkles. It's not like the smoke she smells at 12. "Gale might not even wake up to know."

Jack's eyes narrow. Then he shifts, and he squints his eyes, rubbing at them. He stands moments later. Then he walks toward the stairs.

When she doesn't follow, he looks back. "Well, c'mon."

Katniss hurriedly bounds over, and they take the few stairs up to the roof.

* * *

Katniss decides that smoking doesn't make her feel better. It only makes her feel worse.

When Jack asked for it back, she flung it off the roof. Jack's jaw tightened at her, and he was angry, though he didn't voice it.

She told him, "You're welcome." He snorted, huffed, and went back inside.

His twitches didn't fade until he fell asleep.

* * *

Katniss doesn't think she falls asleep. Her eyes watched the clock in a pseudo-sleep, foggy and unfocused, until doctor came up to them around three in the morning.

All of them are still there, though moving around stiffly from the waiting chairs. A few nurses offer them a bed, but no one accepts.

The doctor is old. He's white-haired and wrinkled, and the soft lighting makes him seem weary. His name tag reads Dr. Robert Holloman.

"We got most of the toxin out," he explains. "Took him a while to stabilize. We've fixed him up with an IV and fluids to clean out his system for the rest of the night. I checked his ribs and his organs - we had to go in to make sure there was no fatal or worrying cases of internal bleeding. The knife punctured his liver and nicked his diaphragm, so we used the regenerator to heal the tissue and we put medicine in his IV to help his body recover."

"Regenerator?" Katniss interrupts, looking on wide-eyed. "What's...that?"

Dr. Holloman clears his throat, glancing at the squad, then to Paylor. Paylor gives a subtle nod.

"It's a device that is able to make genetic copies of tissue samples, and generate the cells needed for the damaged organ. It's been around since the war, though strictly used only in the Capitol and Career Districts."

Katniss stares on in disbelief. "So that means you could fix anything. Hearts, flesh wounds...bones?"

"Unfortunately," Paylor says, speaking up from her position next to Jack. "We've had to limit the funding into such research. The regenerator only works with the more simplistic tissues. There have been prototypes made to scan and create the genetic copies of other, more important organs - the heart and the brain, for instance - but they aren't reliable. And procedures to use them are very expensive." Paylor's eyes sharpen at the words she says. "And besides, there are several morality issues attached with the ideas. We can't advertise it without causing controversy. It's only used in the most dire of circumstances in hospitals."

"We save lives," Holloman says gravely. "We do not condone immortality."

The words are heavy. Katniss inhales deeply, her mind shifting rapidly with thoughts. What other things does she not know about this place? What other weapons are hidden in the closet? She looks to Paylor and wonders what secrets she keeps, and what things she has to go through to keep them.

Her mind makes the descent back to Peeta, and his leg in the first Hunger Games, and how they must have fixed it.

"That said," the doctor says, pushing up his glasses. "We had to reset his ribs so they wouldn't heal crooked or abnormally. We've given him plenty of medicinal morphling. He might not wake up until tomorrow night, but he'll regain consciousness. He might seem to act..strangely, because of the large doses of morphling, however."

The rest of his explanation settles over them, and there's a tangible shift to the mood. Everyone still looks restless, but suddenly, they look like they can sleep without worry.

"Drugged him up good, did you Doc?" Jack says lazily.

Holloman smiles. "He won't feel a thing for several hours."

They soon start to depart once the doctor leaves the hallway. Bolts is the first to say goodbye, having his own car and house in the city. Johanna leaves with Anton, and Jack isn't far behind. They all seem to drag.

Katniss looks to Paylor, and Paylor looks at her. There are so many questions Katniss wants to ask her, but she picks the most important one, for now.

"Can I stay here?" Katniss whispers in the quiet.

Paylor places her weight on her left foot, shifting. Her eyes pierce her in the dark of the hallway.

"That can be arranged," she says after a second, motioning to the front desk on the floor. "You can stay in his room. I'll tell them that you're his cousin. They won't bother you."

Katniss, for the first time, is thankful for the labeling. "Okay. Thanks."

Paylor nods a farewell, and heads to the desk like she said she would. Katniss looks to Gale's door, and she goes to open it.

The moonlight filters through the window, acting like a nightlight in the dark gloom of the room. She hears his deep breathing from the bed, and the muffled beeping of the heart and IV monitor.

She closes the door behind her gently, frightened to disturb the stillness. She stares at his form from the entryway, slow minutes passing between them. She eventually ventures to his bedside, able to look closely at his face and his neck, seeing the discoloration under his eyes, the yellows and purples of a bruise. He's got three lines of cuts on his neck, looking like gills of a fish becoming deeper from the first to the third.

They put him in a blue hospital gown, concealing the rest of his body and his wounds from view, a sheet covering him up to his waist.

She moves her hand to graze his temple lightly, then his mottled, flushed cheek. His skin is blazing under her hand, and she can see beads of sweat bordering his hairline. Her fingers fall to his chapped lips, then his chin, then she removes her hand and places it against her side.

Looking at him like this effects her. She feels anger and relief and hate and she thinks she might feel worry and concern.

_So if I died tomorrow, what would you do?_

"You said you'd be fine," she hisses a whisper. "You said you'd come back before..." Then she chokes, and she quiets herself from talking anymore. She presses a finger to the seam of her lips, and she turns away to take a seat along the wall of the room. She curls herself up in it, eying the heart monitor, the number religiously set to sixty-two beats per minute, a sluggish and loud cacophony against the cage of the room. She lets her eyes linger on it through the night, and she ignores Gale's almost lifeless body lying on the cot.

* * *

His mouth is raw when he wakes up. It's the first thing he notices. Then he notices...nothing else. He blinks, blurred patches of sleep being swept away, glancing around the room. He sees the heart monitor, and he sees the IV running up to the veins in his hand.

A hospital? ...huh. Why was he in a hospital?

He sighs, and his head swims around. He's...incredibly light. He feels around with a hand and realizes he doesn't have any clothes on. Why'd they take his clothes off?

Something nags behind his eyes. There's something missing there. He can feel it. A whole chunk of nothing. Maybe memory loss isn't so bad. He's been to the hospital for other weird things.

The nag turns into a roar at the thought. Something...something terrible happened. Or almost happened. Or was supposed to happen.

His mind immediately switches to Katniss, and there's a deafening collapse in his stomach. Katniss. Something about Katniss. Katniss wounded or Katniss dead. His heart jolts and he's sitting up. He rolls himself to the side, his feet landing and soaking in the chill from the floor. He pushes himself to stand and stumbles forward, his balance and coordination seriously lacking.

_What the hell did they put in my system?_

His arms jerks, and the IV stand rolls precariously toward him.

"Ah, shit," he mumbles, hand going to untangle the tube from his skin, ripping open the small holes in his hand. "Piece of...fuck." The tube squirts liquid onto the line of his arm and his gown and sprinkles onto the floor. He tries to tie the plastic together like a hose, and when he fails at that, he tries to clumsily bend it over several times to stop the flow.

"...Gale?"

He drops the tube in surprise. He blinks over to the side of the room, then rubs at his face, trying to rid the strange fogginess that keeps trying to cloud over his eyes.

"Kat...Katniss?"

"What - " she starts, getting up from her perch on the chair. Some of her hair dangles loose and haphazardly from her ruined braid. He stares at her in a stupor.

She's supposed to be...dead?

But her hair is framing her face, so she can't be dead.

The sudden relief he feels is palpable and electric. "Katniss."

"- are you doing? Gale, you need to lay back down. You're seriously injured - "

He ignores her nagging as he watches her step toward him, her hand going up to lightly press at his shoulders, timidly, trying to maneuver him back to the bed. He steps one foot back, but he's able to hold up against her. He smiles.

When she sees it, her eyes tighten. "Gale, this isn't a joke. You need to rest..."

"Why? You're not dead."

She stops pressing against him, looking up at him, raising her eyebrows. "Of course I'm not."

"I think I thought you might be," he says, leaning toward her. She leans back, looking at him in sudden trepidation.

"Gale...you're drugged."

He laughs. He lets his forehead land on hers, and as much as she's leaned away, she can't lean any further. His hands go around to rest on her hips, and she realizes her hands are still on his shoulders. She immediately takes them off him. In turn, he pulls her closer to him, pressing her stomach to his stomach.

"I think it's just you," he says. "You're making me like this."

He doesn't let herself look up to his eyes. She stares at the opening of the gown at his collarbone, and at the gills on his neck.

"No, really," she breathes, and her cheeks get hot under his eyes. "They gave you a lot of morphling - "

She doesn't get to finish. He closes the inch between them and kisses her, lightly and dazedly. Her hands automatically take their places on his shoulders again. She becomes aware of how thin his gown is, how hard his body is, how he's slowly but surely getting them closer and closer, chests starting to suffocate each other.

She should push away. She's got every right to push him away. She has to think about Peeta, and Peeta's kisses and -

Gale's thumbs dig into the spot where her hip meets her stomach. She breaks away from him with an exhale, the sensation blotting out all the thoughts in her mind, stilling them and forcing her to think about nothing at all. Her eyes find his, and she sees his pupil's dilation, and how they're almost completely black, with the gray a sliver of a border.

"No," he says, almost in a whine. "I'm not done yet."

He leans in without any preamble, less careful and more confident. His tongue burns against her lips, and she opens it slightly for him. She thinks she almost hears him growl as he explores her mouth, copious amounts of hunger and desire leaking from him and into her. She feels it in the way his arms grip her, how he tilts her head, how he's this passion and fire and how it burns from the roof of her mouth and down her throat, building in her chest and branching out to her toes, circling back through her limbs.

Her hands have minds of their own. They find the nape of his neck, then his hair. She grips it and pulls at his roots. He bites her lip. She gently lets her tongue slide against his, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat that resonates all the way to her bones.

He breaks away from her, and she finds herself following him. His eyes gleam at her, all glassy and half-gone, and he starts to suck on her neck.

"Gale," she gasps sharply. "N-no, you can't...we shouldn't do this anymore," she pleads, her fingers twining in his hair, involuntarily pushing his face closer. "We...shouldn't."

"I think...we should," he breathes against her skin. She shudders a little, and he bites at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. When he's obstructed by the cloth of her shirt, one of his hands crawls under it, brushing past the belt loops of her jeans and bunching it together at the bottom. "This doesn't need to be here."

"Oh," she says, trying to shake rational thoughts into her head. "Yes. Yes, it should definitely be there."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes," she says, her hands going to stop his assault. "It does."

He looks at her, and she looks back. He blinks, faltering, but his hand remains under her shirt, and hers on top of his.

He closes his eyes and exhales through his nose, and he opens them to her again. He seems to have become desperate, his pupils still wide but his jaw set. His eyes glint at her, and she swallows at the intensity of the stare.

"Let me make love to you," he says, pleadingly, in one hurried breath.

She stares at him, eyes becoming a little wide. "_Gale_ - "

"Just once," he says, touching her face with his fingers. "Just once so I know what you look like. And what it's like. So I don't have to dream about it anymore."

Her mouth opens slightly, all she can say is, "You..._dream_ about it?"

"It'll just be between you and me. No one will know except us. And then you can go back to Peeta and leave and never come back. You can hate me all you want." He blinks once, twice, eyes going to her lips. "You can forget, like you've gotten so good at doing."

She takes a step away from him, his hands and arms no longer vices around her. They fall to his sides. She stares at him while he looks back, then down to the floor.

"Your ribs are broken," she says, voice holding a tint of disbelief.

"You're what I've always wanted," he answers.

She flinches, and the terrible dark heat erupts in the lids of her eyes. But she remains staring at him, and he at her.

The knock at the door disrupts nothing. Katniss hardly notices the nurse that comes in.

"Oh, my, you're not supposed to be up until - " she says, until she sees the spectacle of the tube on the floor, drowning in a small puddle of morphling and bodily fluids. "What on earth..."

She glances between them, taking in Katniss's mussed hair and Gale's tangled hair, how her cheeks are flushed and lips newly swollen, and at the extra heady glimmer in Gale's face that has nothing to do with the morphling. The nurse checks their relation status on her clipboard.

"Cousins," she mutters, rolling her eyes. Then she goes to the tubes and helps Gale lie back into the cot, stopping the IV monitor and replacing the bent tube with another from a drawer under the bed. The process takes a few minutes, and she explains to Gale that he should sleep for at least twelve more hours before taking the time out to get up or walking or trying any strenuous activities. At the last one, she gives Katniss a pointed look. Katniss notices and averts her eyes awkwardly to the ground.

"There's a cafeteria on the fourth floor," the nurse tells her, situating Gale under the bed sheet. "It's open from six a.m. to midnight whenever you want to eat."

Katniss tries to give her a grateful smile, though it falls flat. She isn't sure when she'll be hungry again.

"Thank you."

The nurse nods, then she leaves.

And they go back to looking at each other, until Gale's eyelids have trouble staying up.

"Think she added another dose of stuff in there?" he breathes tiredly.

"You need rest," Katniss answers, just as quietly.

"Please don't go outside," Gale mumbles. "Bad things...there are bad things."

He falls into a deep sleep minutes, or maybe seconds, later, and Katniss guiltily touches the spot on her lip that he had bitten.

"I won't," she says.

* * *

She goes to the miniature bathroom a few times, and she stares at herself in the mirror. She looks at her hair, and re-braids it, and she looks at her face, then decides to wash it. There's a small shower in there, too, but she forgoes the temptation. She looks at her lips, and she coats her fingers with soap, lathering up bubbles in her palm, and she lets them hover.

She hesitates for a moment. They were drunk kisses. Katniss kissed Gale when she was desperate, once. Sloppy, needy kisses. And he had the decency to stop her. Maybe he was desperate this time, too. One lousy kiss for another. But his was far from lousy. She's scared to wonder what his kisses are like when he's not under some kind of influence.

She puts her hand over her mouth and rubs, counting out five seconds before she stops.

It didn't...mean anything. Why does she feel so strange about it? It isn't as if she's never kissed a man before and didn't mean it. She never washed any of Peeta's kisses. Why wash Gale's?

Maybe because it meant something to him, and she _knew_ it meant something to him, and she didn't push away. It's unfair. She wipes her mouth with a towel, and hopes he was too drugged to remember it.

The next time she goes to the bathroom, she stares at her braid. Her movements are slow at first, but as her resolve builds, her fingers speed up into a steady pace. She stretches the hairband around her wrist, and she looks at the wavy hair that falls down around her.

Change, she thinks. One of her hands reaches up to touch her chest, and she sees Prim and her smile.

It hurts.

She fingers her phone and she scrolls down the contacts and find Peeta's name several times. Only, she stares at it and does nothing. She's not sure if she has the stomach to call him and talk normally after...well, she doesn't like the word _cheating_, but maybe that's what she did. And besides, it's rush hour at the bakery, now. She'd only be a hindrance.

She sighs and stares at the walls.

She jumps when there's a knock on the door.

To her unending surprise, in walks Reeva...and Johanna.

Katniss blinks at the sight.

Reeva quickly clicks in, her heels dominating the stillness in the room. She rushes to Gale's bedside, leaning over and fingering his bangs back from his forehead. Her fingers graze over the spots Katniss's had the night before, ending at his chin. Then she leans in and kisses his lips.

"Oh, Gale," she says, looking down at him with sad eyes.

Katniss watches her, and she can almost see love in Reeva's face. It isn't as if she's thought they were the best pair - her encounters with Reeva have let Katniss make some opinions she doesn't think she can publicly voice.

Johanna leans against the doorjamb, looking at Katniss. "Hey. Lunch?"

"No, thank you, Johanna," Reeva answers shortly. "I'd like to stay in here."

Johanna cuts a spiteful glare at Reeva's back. "I wasn't talking to you, brainless."

Katniss smiles a little. Reeva looks at Johanna coolly.

"Sure, Johanna," Katniss says, getting up from her seat. There's definitely no way she was going to sit in there alone with Reeva for who knows how long, watching her fondle Gale.

Once Johanna closes the door behind them, she almost explodes into conversation. "That girl tried to talk me into a conversation about a sale going on at Penny's the whole way here. Stupid, brainless chick. Didn't even try to talk about Gale."

Katniss raises a brow at her. "Did _you_ try?"

"Hell no," Johanna all but snarls. "No way I'm talking about Gale to her."

Katniss wonders about this for a moment, her conversation with Gale from the train entering her mind. She immediately wonders how much Johanna still likes Gale. Or loves him.

She avoids the thoughts. Instead, she says, "You called me brainless a few times, back in the day. Don't tell me I'm as bad as her."

Johanna shakes her head. "Surprisingly, she's more brainless than you."

Katniss rolls her eyes. "Shocking."

"She acts so dumb around us - the squad," she clarifies. "Gale's never been one for airheads until she showed up."

They enter the elevator. Johanna pushes the number four. Katniss absently sees that they're on the twentieth floor.

She bites her lip, and she tastes the hint of soap. "Is he just using her for - sex?"

Johanna gives her a funny look. But she says, "Probably. Why else would he keep her around?"

Katniss watches the numbers slowly decrease above her. Why would he? Then she frowns as she thinks. Maybe he's really in love. Maybe he's too frightened to admit it, and he's in denial, and he...

_You're what I've always wanted._

She swallows. Wanting isn't loving. And Reeva makes her nervous. A deep nervous that makes her hope that Gale isn't in love with her, in case...

_In case what?_

Once the doors open, Katniss glances at Johanna. "I think I'll call her brainless, too."

"By all means," Johanna says emphatically. She smiles a little. "The more people I can get on my side, the better."

The cafeteria reminds her a lot of the one in the building Gale works in, but it's less flashy. The walls match the rest of the color scheme in the hospital with whites and blues, and the carpet is compact and bouncy and tough.

Once they sit at a table, Katniss says, "Why did you bring Reeva anyway?"

Johanna glares evilly. "It's Anton's way of joking. He stuck her with me because everyone else was_ busy_," she says. "And they wanted me to check on you." She gives Katniss a pointed look. "You're welcome, by the way."

Katniss gives her a smile. "You did save me from being stuck in a room with her."

"Exactly. But she probably would have ignored you, anyway."

Katniss sighs. "Wouldn't surprise me." She stabs at the chicken on her plate. "I don't think she likes me very much."

Johanna snorts. "I don't think she likes women in general. Especially the ones that threaten her territory," she smirks.

Katniss grimaces. Twelve hours ago, she wouldn't feel so guilty at that statement. But it isn't as if Katniss threatens Reeva's territory, anyway. People say stupid things when they're not fully coherent. Gale didn't have to mean all that he said, or that he did. There's a reason he's stayed with Reeva so long - whatever that reason may be - and there isn't anything Katniss can threaten purposely. If she's honest, she hadn't known she was threatening anything to begin with.

Katniss shakes her head. "But Gale and I..."

"Yeah, yeah," Johanna waves her words away. "You and your tacky romances. You'll say nothing was between you two, but there was." She squints at her, and Katniss shrinks under her stare, her lips burning red-handed. "I was there, remember?"

Katniss crosses her arms. "I didn't think you cared about it that much."

Johanna shrugs at that. "I didn't. But it kind of mattered to Gale."

Katniss gets a little defensive. "So what? What did he tell you?"

"Not much," Johanna admits. "But you hardly need eyes to see what happened. Everyone goes through tough love, Katniss." Johanna places her elbows on the table and leans forward a little, eying her. "I think it effected you a lot, too, even though you don't like admitting it."

Katniss narrows her eyes at her, feeling overly protective of herself. "What makes you think that?"

At this, Johanna's face gains a slow smile. "Well, for starters, you've got a pretty little hickie right...there."

Katniss hunches, feeling her face heat exponentially. One of her hands immediately goes to the spot on her neck Gale had acted on, and she looks to Johanna, biting her lip - where Gale had bit her lip. She releases it at the thought.

"I _have_ one?"

Johanna's smile widens. "Two."

Katniss squeaks. "_Two_?"

"What, did you give him a goodbye kiss yesterday?"

"Of course not!" she says, her voice raising. "He gave them to me this morning!"

Johanna quirks a brow. "This morning? You mean, he woke up?"

"For a few minutes," Katniss says, trying to calm down, her hand remaining pressed to her neck as if she's bleeding. "He acted really happy to see me...and then he started kissing me."

Johanna gives her a look. "So did you just stand there and let him, or what?"

Katniss cringes. Yes. No. She didn't know! What happened earlier, anyway? It's kind of a blur.

_Except not_, her lips burn at her. Except _kind of_, argues her brain.

"It happened really fast," Katniss says, mustering all her dignity left. "And Gale's pretty strong when he's drugged."

"I'm sure."

"He is!"

"Persuasive too, huh?"

Katniss groans and lets her head fall to the table. Johanna laughs at her.

"It's okay, Katniss," she rolls her eyes. "A lot of girls can't resist Gale's...charm."

"Is that what it's called?" Katniss says sardonically, twisting her fork around. Then she looks up to Johanna. "Could _you_ resist his charm?"

Johanna shrugs, nonchalant. "His charm, sure. I went for his body, though."

_His hard body underneath the thin hospital gown_... Katniss shakes her head exasperatedly.

"So you _did_ sleep together," Katniss muses aloud, after a second. "I was wondering if that's what he was trying to tell me."

"He told you?" she asks, sounding surprised.

"Sort of..." Katniss allows. "I kind of asked him about you guys, just not in so many words."

"Hm," Johanna purses her lips, leaning back and crossing her arms under her chest. "Well, it was nice while it lasted."

"But you're still friends? Even after...that?"

"Sure," Johanna says, easily. "Why shouldn't we be?"

Katniss frowns, placing her cheek in her palm, elbow on the table. "I don't know. Maybe I just think...maybe I'm overdramatic about these things. I mean, Peeta...he's back in 12, placing all his trust in me, and look at what I'm doing."

Johanna rolls her eyes. "It isn't the end of the world, Katniss. Things happen. I'm sure if Peeta is as understanding as I've heard, he'll listen to you. Or you don't have to say anything. Keep a secret. C'mon, Katniss, I'm sure you know this, at least."

Katniss gives her a soft glare. "Yeah, I know, but I should have _acted._"

"But you did act. Just not in the way you wanted to."

Katniss closes her eyes. "Thanks for not helping at all, Johanna."

"You thought I was trying to help you?" Johanna laughs at her again, though Katniss is sure it's because of how she's fidgeting. And because of the hickies. She reaches up with her other hand to rub at them disdainfully.

Johanna glances to Katniss after a while, her eyes taking on a wicked gleam that Katniss misses.

"Since we're on the topic...wanna know?" Johanna drawls.

Katniss sighs and looks up. "Know what?"

Johanna puts up her hands, spacing them out generously. "If I can remember right, I think this was how big Gale- "

"Johanna!" Katniss shouts, and thankfully there aren't many patrons eating in the cafeteria. "I do not want to know anything about that! _Ever_," she adds, feeling a terrible redness cover her face and neck, and maybe her whole body, too.

Johanna cackles at Katniss's reaction. "Don't act like you've never thought about it."

"Peeta's maybe," Katniss hisses to her. "Never Gale's."

Johanna smiles. "You have, now."

Katniss inhales deeply, giving her a look. "What about Anton's?" Katniss bites out, retaliating. "I'm sure you know what he's like, too."

Johanna's smile disappears. "It might surprise you, but _no_. I don't."

"Why not?" Katniss asks. "Are you scared?"

"Scared?" Johanna scoffs loudly. "What are you trying to get at, Katniss?"

"Considering he really likes you, I thought..."

Johanna shakes her head vehemently. "Never in his wildest dreams."

"Why, though?" Katniss asks, her curiosity building. "You did it with Gale."

"Gale's different," Johanna answers vaguely. "Gale and I didn't want anything serious. There was nothing serious about us."

"And with Anton, it would be serious?" Katniss says, trying to decipher Johanna's hard look. She imagines Anton, and she can see him being passionate about her, and loving her easily, if he wanted to. Katniss guesses that Johanna may think the same thing.

"He would be...harder to get rid of," she finally says.

"Why get rid of him?" Katniss asks, honestly. "You would remain friends, regardless, right?"

Johanna stands up, grabbing her tray. "I'm not having this conversation with you. Sorry," she says, throwing away the rest of her food.

"Now _you're_ being overdramatic," Katniss follows her, teasing just a little. "Maybe if you tried to not be in denial..."

Johanna snorts. "Practice what you preach. Besides, it's not denial for me. It's called a choice."

Katniss sighs at her and her stubbornness and decides not to say anything further about it. Instead, she says, "Do you think Reeva's still in Gale's room?"

Johanna's mood seems to sour over even more. "I wouldn't be surprised if she is. I think she had a busy day, today, though. Hopefully she's gone." Then Johanna looks over at her, assessing her neck. Katniss fights the instinct to cover the bruises.

"If she's there, try to show them off every chance you get."

"Do you want me to die?" Katniss asks, incredulous.

Johanna smirks. "It'd sure give brainless a chance to reconsider their relationship. Bring out all her _true_ colors."

Katniss misses the inflection in her voice, opting to scrunch her nose in distaste. "Thanks for the advice."

* * *

Johanna leaves Katniss to make it back to his room alone and defenseless. Fortunately, venturing into the room is safe. Reeva is no longer a parasite at Gale's bedside.

Katniss breathes out relief before taking a seat. Then she goes to the bathroom to look at the damage on her neck.

She sighs at the two blotches. They aren't huge, but they're large enough to notice. Especially the one where her neck and shoulder meet. She tugs her shirt collar up as high as it can go. Maybe she'll be able to leave soon, call Johanna, buy a turtleneck. _Something._

She takes a long shower soon after, and stays there until the water runs cold.

* * *

The air is thick when Gale wakes up again. His head pounds and his body feels weighted and detached. He goes to move his right arm, but stops when there's a quick, sharp pain at his shoulder. It's almost too tight to move comfortably, and he grunts as he keeps trying, as if the fire will die down if he pushes through it.

Then he feels the stabbing pain in his ribs, slowly at first. Then it spreads, thicker and thicker, and suddenly he has a hard time breathing. It's as if there's something constricting his diaphragm, and a pole shoved right through his body. He squeezes his eyes shut at the sensation, and an immediate cold sweat runs down his temples.

He groans some. What in the hell happened to him? His vision is a little foggy as he opens his eyes again, trying to gain a sense of placement. He hears a faint beeping beside him, and he strains his neck to see a heart monitor. He feels a prickle of a burn on the side of his neck as he does.

The walls are white. He's pretty sure he's naked. And there's a humid mist that surrounds the entire room.

His mind is questionably blank. The last thing he remembers is...

Walking home. Snow. A dark alley.

He reaches up with his left hand and rubs at his face. It's sensitive - there must be bruising around his eyes. He tries to exhale gently.

"Damn it," he mutters, his voice crackly. He reaches over and touches his ribs, but stars explode behind his eyes and he hurries to stop. He exhales again, though shallower.

Maybe he got hit with a car.

He hears a door open off to the left side of the room. He blinks his eyes open, trying to focus on the form entering through the door.

He sees the hair first. "Katniss?"

She stops toweling her hair off, placing enough of it over her shoulders to hide her neck. "Gale. You're awake."

"Wish I wasn't," he says, squinting. "What happened to me?"

Katniss stares at him. He doesn't sound like he's drugged anymore. He doesn't seem to be embarrassed by anything, though it's hard to get him embarrassed about anything. His words make her worried, regardless. "You don't remember anything that happened?"

"Not really," he trails. "But whoever it was probably wanted me to. Are my ribs broken?"

Katniss slowly walks over to his side, taking the seat Reeva had left earlier. "Yeah," she says softly. "Most of the ones on your right side."

Gale's lips form a grim line. "What happened to my arm?"

"They dislocated it," she answers. "Does it hurt?"

"Can barely move it," he grits out angrily. He avoids looking at her, glaring at the lines of the ceiling. "Ribs can take months to heal."

Katniss isn't sure what to say, or how to console him. She could tell him about the regenerator, but broken ribs aren't something hugely dire. His eyes seem to be far away and slightly despondent.

"I'm sure the doctor will give you good medicine. It might even speed up the healing process..."

Gale shakes his head, breathing out of his nose. He seems to wince. "We'll see."

She examines him. "Do you need more morphling?"

He closes his eyes. "I think I can manage."

"Gale..."

"The nurse will probably be in here, soon." He looks at her. "When'd I get here?"

"Last night," she says. "I came with Johanna and Anton. They told me you were airlifted here. All of us, we were...scared for you."

He stares at her a while, noticing her wet hair, and how she isn't braiding it. He smiles softly. "It takes more than a few broken ribs to kill me."

"You were poisoned, too," she says. "From a dagger. It cut your diaphragm, and it - punctured your liver."

He watches her closely, and he notices how she avoids his eyes, and how she looks down to her hands in her lap.

"My liver?"

"But they used a regenerator...do you know what that is? I didn't know anything like that existed. They fixed the cut in your liver, and they fixed your diaphragm, too. They put medication for it in your IV bag, to help them recover faster from it."

"Yeah, I know what that is. Old technology. But poison..." he trails, still looking at her.

"They spent a long time draining it from you last night," she says.

"Did you stay?"

At this, she looks up at him sharply. "Of course I stayed," she says, voice as sharp as her eyes. "Where else was I supposed to go?"

Her sudden anger makes him hesitate with his words. "I...don't know. You could have stayed at the apartment."

She gives him a hard look, and he can't read it. "You wouldn't have stayed at your apartment if I was in the hospital."

He blinks at her, his mind running to the similar happening to her, lying in a hospital bed, and him waiting for her to wake up. She was fulfilling a favor, being here with him. And that's alright.

Just...for a second, he hoped she was worried. He smiles at this - just like the old days. Him, being purposefully reckless to get her attention. And failing. He was a foolish kid.

"_What_?" she says irritatedly, noticing his smile.

He glances away from her accusing eyes, finding her thick, wet hair. It's a dark, nighttime brown, hanging around her shoulders and down her chest. It creates darkening trails in her shirt.

"I wouldn't have stayed at the apartment," he says, ignoring her question. "I would've been right here, like you."

She's close enough for his good hand to reach out and mess with her hair. It's bitingly cold, a refreshing chill against his heated hand. He sighs at the contact before Katniss jerks away from him.

"What are you doing?"

He frowns at his hand. What had he been doing? Maybe the pain is making him delirious.

"Sorry," he says, placing his arm back to his side. "I think I have fever."

To his surprise, she goes and puts her hand on his cheek. Then she moves it to his forehead.

Her hand gives him as much pleasure as her hair did. He closes his eyes at the contact, and he sighs again.

Her face contorts once she takes her hand away. "You _are_ kind of hot."

He feels himself smile at this. "You're kind of hot, too."

The words slip out of him before he gets a chance to think about them. He cringes at himself.

"Uh...sorry," he says, just daring to peek up at her. And once he does, he has to blink and make sure he sees her right.

There's a knock at the door, and a nurse comes in, though it's a different one from earlier. Katniss hurriedly takes her eyes off Gale, and looks up to the nurse, only to become frozen in her spot.

"What on earth have you gotten yourself into this time, Gale?" she says, glancing at a clipboard as she enters the room. "No matter how many times I tell you..."

She looks up and her eyes catch on Katniss. Katniss feels the color drain from her face.

"Katniss..." she breathes, slowly lowering her clipboard to her stomach.

Katniss opens her mouth for a few seconds, before she breathes back. _"Mom?"_

And all Gale can think about during their reunion, feverish with thoughts cluttered by pulsing pain, is, _had Katniss been_ blushing?

* * *

a/n; i think i just made them make-out.  
anon replies:

everyturnasurprise: i guess i like killer-robot-things. and plot twists. :D and sometimes, i really didn't like Katniss and her confused-ness in the books. sometimes i'd get annoyed with her, haha. hope i didn't scare you away!

apples: i love your name.

Nicole: please don't stab yourself. D:


	17. influences

a/n; you guys make me want to climb onto my roof and sing songs from the HG soundtrack. also, this chapter SUCKED.

chapter seventeen - influences

"a season for the both of us  
a reason that rose off the coffin  
blown wishes off the dandelion  
the truth is all these changes take time" - pedals, the love language

* * *

There's a deafening silence flying around the room.

Katniss stares at her mother for a few moments, watching tears form in her mother's eyes. They glisten like jewels, her blonde hair faded into a pale yellow, her youth concealed with lines and tired skin. She's wearing scrubs like all the other nurses, her hair up and out of her face, her hands stained with healing.

It's almost as if she stayed the same.

Katniss wonders how her mother sees her – has she looked like she's changed? Does she look world-weary or petrified like old wood, remaining the same?

Then her mother smiles, and tears fall, and she starts to cry. She places the clipboard at the end of Gale's bed, and she rushes over to Katniss as if she'll run away from her. Her arms go around Katniss's shoulders in a soft hug, then it tightens. Her mother holds onto her like she'll never let her stay away, again.

"Oh, Katniss. Oh, my baby, my beautiful baby."

Her mother cries into her shoulder, and Katniss feels the warm tears rub onto her face. She reluctantly places her hands around her mother's waist.

"Hi, mom."

She loosens her grip, backing up a little bit to look at her. Her mouth trembles like it's broken.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss. I'm so sorry I left you all alone – I've missed you so much."

Did she really? Katniss wonders. Did her mother ever truly love her enough to justify how much she missed her? Katniss can't contain her doubts, or her antipathy, or the choking anger she feels – though she wonders if she had left earlier, perhaps with Peeta, if she had left the comforts of District 12 long enough to come find her mother…would she feel this way?

But her mother didn't leave the comforts of working, either. She didn't come to see her in all the time after the war ended. There were few words at the beginning, and those dwindled. There weren't any letters. Was it Katniss's fault, or her mother's? Perhaps it was both their faults.

Katniss _is_ her mother's daughter. And she hates her mother for that.

But the worst thing is that Katniss isn't sure if she missed her mother.

"Mom…" she says, uncertain and unsure. Her hands hesitate on her mother's scrubs before releasing them. But her mother doesn't let go. Instead, she reaches up and touches Katniss's face, cupping her cheek.

"I know you won't forgive me," her mother says, smiling softly and sadly as she looks into Katniss's eyes. "You never did, did you?"

Katniss swallows, and she holds no remorse. "No. I didn't."

"Always were a tough one to forgive," she says, stray tears still falling without rhythm. "I was never able to gain it."

"You never tried," Katniss says, voice thick. Her mother never let Katniss's love help lessen the pain. She let Katniss survive on her own. And by doing that, Katniss has learned to live without her. Mourning on the phone with her over Prim might as well have been their mourning on the loss of each other.

Her mother flinches at the words. "Yes, I did."

"When?" Katniss almost shouts. "When did you possibly try to be a mom to me?"

Her mom stands and steps away from her, distraught, looking at Katniss as if she's a monster.

"I know I wasn't the best mom," she says, "But I did the best I could – "

"Your best must have been a joke," Katniss says.

Her mom closes her eyes, rubbing at her face, and grabs the clipboard. "I should have gone back to 12. I should have showed you how much I cared. But I didn't." She glances unseeing to the paper in her hands.

"It isn't as if you tried either, Katniss."

They both look to Gale, who's looking to the ceiling.

"Stay out of it, Gale," Katniss answers him. "You're not a part of this."

He grimaces. "I understand it well enough." He turns to glance at her, catching her mean eye. "I never went to see you. I never called you. But do you know how much I wanted to?"

His gaze is so forceful, she has to look away.

"Don't push your only mother away from you," he says. "You'll regret it."

She glares at the wall.

"It's alright, Gale," says Miss Everdeen, slowly walking around to the other side of him, checking the measurements of the IV. "Don't stick up for me. I deserve it."

"I don't think you do," he says, turning to look at her.

She gives him a little smile through the redness of her eyes. "Only because I take care of you all the time."

Katniss sits up more at this, looking at both of them and narrowing her eyes.

Her mom walks over to his IV stand, transforming into a nurse. "Your morphling levels have dropped considerably," she says, her eyes the only indication to her emotions. She starts writing something down on the clipboard. "The toxin levels are trace as well, which is very good."

"What kind of poison was it?" Gale asks, glancing down to the IV in his veins.

"We're not sure, but we know it's man-made. They've been running some tests on it, and we now know that it's lethal but slow acting. After a while, it targets your organs and shuts them down. We think it depends on body mass, though" She looks down to Gale. "Good thing they found you when they did."

He looks back up to the ceiling. "Yeah…good thing." He winces, then closes his eyes. "Does it make you forget things?"

"It's possible," she says, pulling a vial from her pocket and injecting it into the IV bag. "It may have different side effects on different people. Why?" She eyes him. "What's wrong, Gale?"

He frowns. "I can't remember what happened last night," he admits. "I can't remember anything except waking up ten minutes ago."

Katniss rubs at her neck discreetly.

Miss Everdeen glances over him, reaching out and looking around his head for wounds.

"There's nothing that mentions head trauma," she says, gently feeling his scalp. "Though amnesia could be possible – or you may be repressing it."

"Trust me," he says derisively. "I'm not repressing it."

"Then maybe the poison circulated to your brain during whatever happened to you. It could have eaten at your perception."

"But…" Gale says, and Katniss thinks he looks lost and angry, opening his eyes to the ceiling again. "I need to remember it. It was important."

Miss Everdeen smiles slightly to him. "It can come back. Give it a few days and some recovery. Something might trigger it."

Gale sighs out a moment later, the medicine washing into his system, the tightness of his face fading away. "Thanks for the morphling, Miss Everdeen."

"Elaine," she emphasizes, shaking her head as though she's told him this many times. "It isn't much. Buzz me if it becomes unbearable, okay?" she says, giving him a serious look. "I know how you are."

He smiles at her.

"Look after him, Katniss?" she says, glancing over to her.

"I was," Katniss answers.

She sighs a bit, placing a hand on her hip and looking between them. "I'm glad you're talking again. And I'm...glad you're here. I know it wasn't a good…farewell between you two…"

When Katniss doesn't say anything, Gale says, "Yeah, we're…talking."

Her expression is questioning. She glances to Katniss, her previous emotions from minutes before sealed away. "How's Peeta?"

"He's fine," Katniss says, clipped.

"Are you happy together?" she asks, softly.

"Yes."

"Did you...did you two marry?"

Her voice is very tentative and hopeful, though sad. Katniss can see the regret written plainly on her mom's face, though she isn't sure if it's because of what she's missed or because of what she doesn't know.

"No, we haven't married. We've talked about it, but I don't want to. And he respects that."

"Good," she says. "Good. Peeta's always been a wonderful boy. Very nice and sweet." She glances to Gale, who has closed his eyes.

Katniss lets her eyes stray to Gale's bed sheet. "Yeah, he is."

Her mom looks over her one more time before excusing herself from her room, promising to check on Gale sometime later. Gale tells her goodbye, and Katniss tries her best to ignore her departure.

Gale moves his hand to find the incline button on the side of his bed, the mattress slowly pushing him up into a sitting position. Once he gets comfortable, he looks disappointedly to Katniss.

"I didn't know you hated your mom so much," he says.

Katniss cuts her eyes to him. "I don't hate her," she emphasizes. "There's just not much I love about her."

"Like what?" he says unimpressed. "There's not much to _not_ love about her."

She bites the inside of her cheek before she comments too quickly. "She's just…not someone to look up to. She never…" she struggles, trying to find the right placement of her words. "She loved Prim, so much, just like I did. Just like everyone did. And then she died and it was just like when dad died, except worse – a lot worse. She immersed herself in…this," she says, glancing around at the stark white walls, smelling the hint of sterile cleaning products. "In work. So she didn't have to think about anything or anybody else."

Gale smiles ironically. "Who does that sound like?"

Katniss stares at him. "But it's not – "

"A lot like me. Kind of like you," he says sharply. "Is that why you can't like her? Because she reminds you of me?"

Katniss blinks away from him, folding her arms in front of her for protection from his words.

"No – "

"But at least she's doing something that makes her happy," he says, unrelenting. "Even she's moving on. And you can't tell me you didn't miss her just a little bit."

"No, I didn't! she shouts, infuriated, wanting him desperately to stop talking. "Of course I didn't miss her. She reminds me of me. She reminds me of_ me_, okay? I could have contacted her, but I didn't, because I didn't need her. And she never, not once, contacted me. And suddenly she loves me? Suddenly she's missed me _so_ much and is _so_ sorry?" She stands up and walks away from him, rubbing roughly at the heat in her eyes. "There is nothing that I don't believe less."

Gale tightens his jaw, watching her back and her shoulders, and how tense she is. How thundering her voice is.

"Why'd you believe _me_ then?" he asks her back. "I never contacted you."

She turns. "No, you didn't. But you came back to see your family. You came back even though District 12 wasn't even the same District 12, anymore. You'd come back and they were so happy about it. Peeta would tell me, sometimes, when they'd stop by the bakery after you left, and as sad as they were with you leaving, they'd always be so happy." Her eyes glisten. "I didn't want to see you as much as you didn't want to see me. I didn't care about you. And she _cares_ about me, but she didn't even have the decency to write me _one damn letter_."

She burns fast and bright like a falling star, her fire fading as her tears fall to the tile on the ground.

He doesn't think he's seen her cry more than she has these past few days. This past week.

The depth of her sadness leaves him wordless for a minute, until he breathes in, feeling his ribs move numbly in his side.

"But you needed her."

She looks at him like he betrayed her. "No, I didn't."

"Katniss," he says, trying his best to look past her tears. "You still need her."

"Stop."

"She's your mom. She's the only real family you have left. She's your blood."

"It doesn't matter!" she says, though there's no tough diction in it to back that she believes it. "It doesn't matter," she tries to say, gasping around a sob.

"Hey," he says gently, "Catnip, it's okay if you need her. You don't have to deny it so adamantly..."

She walks to the desk in the corner, agitatedly swiping at the tissues. She washes her face with it.

"And I've seen you forgive, Katniss," he says. "You forgave Peeta when he tried to kill you. _And_ you helped him to fall back in love with you, even if he didn't believe you for a long, long time."

She shakes her head at him, voice coming out wrapped up in emotion. "He was under the influence of the tracker jacker venom. He still... loved me, somewhere inside him."

Gale thinks for a while. "Grief is a big influence, too. It...it can change your image of things - you know this, Katniss, we both do. We know it well. And you shouldn't blame your mom as much as you do because of that grief. She still loves you, too."

She looks at him, eyes hard, and strides over to his bedside. She puts her palms into the mattress beside him, and leans over him.

"You know what else is a big influence?" she asks, and he's really not sure what to say - or what he said to make her look so mad instead of so distraught.

"What?"

"Morphling," she says, and she reaches up and moves her hair over her shoulder. He glances to her exposed neck, how suddenly tantalizing it is, and how...there are marks on it.

"I don't...know..." Gale says, stupefied.

"Want me to forgive you for doing this?"

Gale's eyes widen, and his face colors deeply. "I did that?"

"Yes," she asserts.

"_When_?"

"This morning."

He blinks. "I'm pretty sure I would have remembered doing..."

At her look, he stops talking.

"You don't remember."

"No, but..." he trails. "I didn't mean to."

"Peeta didn't mean to, either. It wasn't his fault that he had wrong memories. As much as it was your fault that they overdosed you on morphling."

He stares at her neck for a while. "And it's not your mom's fault that she's clouded with grief."

She sighs at him. "Would you take this back?" She points to her neck.

He looks at it. "Do you want me to?"

Her stare falters briefly. Then it hardens. "I'm asking you."

"You want the truth?"

She curls her lip at him. "Gale."

He hesitates, looking down to his lap before shrugging, then looking back up to her. "I...probably wouldn't. I mean, you punched me, at least, right?"

It's her turn to hesitate. "No," she says, before she can think about lying.

"Then you pushed me," he prods.

Her next hesitation lasts too long for her to lie believably. He gives her a thoughtful look.

_It takes a while to be able to leave marks,_ he thinks suspiciously.

"What _did_ you do?" he asks.

_Kissed you back_ is something she hardly thinks she should admit to doing.

"I backed away from you," she says, grateful that it's truthful, somewhat.

He raises a brow. "After how long?"

"Not long at all!" she says defensively.

"Katniss...there are two hickeys there."

She flushes. "So?"

"That means I was on your neck for a while."

She pushes off his bed, frustrated and red and how did they get from talking about her mom to talking about her hickeys?

...maybe it was partially her fault, if she thinks about it.

"So...so what if you were?" she says angrily, crossing her arms.

He stares at her, eyes going from confused and embarrassed to calculating and mischievous. "I kissed you, _too_, didn't I?"

She splutters. "No."

He starts grinning. "Yeah, I did."

"No, you didn't."

"Sorry, Catnip, but you suck at lying."

She blushes more. "Shut up."

He chuckles a little. She's never heard him chuckle before.

"Did you kiss back?"

She musters up the courage to glare at him. "You tell me, since you know everything."

That's a tough one. He squints his eyes at her, examining her face. She rolls her eyes and looks away from his stare.

"I'm going to say you did," he says boldly, after a minute of contemplating, and watching her be uncomfortable. "I mean, if you let me go so far as giving you bruises..."

"What does it _matter_?" she shouts.

"I guess it doesn't really matter..." he says. "But it's funny, 'cause you're acting like it does."

She makes a frustrated noise, throwing up her hands like she isn't sure what else to do with them, and she stomps over to the bathroom.

"Hey, wait - "

But she closes the door on him.

He sighs.

He really wishes he could remember kissing her, and the way her neck felt under his teeth.

* * *

When she comes back out, he's almost asleep, eyes fogged over but blinking slowly.

She takes a quiet seat by him, feeling a little foolish, and childish. She didn't have to go off on him like that, but she blames it on being overly defensive about her mother, and her feelings, and...her mother.

She really shouldn't have been so mean to her.

Why does Gale seem to be right all the time?

A long stare in the mirror made her calm down a little. It was easier to calm down than she imagined. She never realized anger and melancholy could be so exhausting.

"Gale?" she says.

He opens his eyes more, reaching up his good arm and rubbing at them. He turns his head to her. "Hey."

"Sorry, about earlier," she whispers. "I overreacted."

He smiles crookedly. "You, overreact? Nah."

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "I'm serious."

"Yeah," he says. "I'm sorry, too. Even though I'm pretty sure you liked it."

She has to admit that she still wonders if she did. She says evasively, "Whatever, Gale."

"Next time...if there's a next time," he says, voice deep with sleepiness. "Just punch me, okay? I won't mind."

"I'm not going to punch you."

"You haven't had a problem before."

Katniss thinks about that, and realizes that she has no inclination to really punch him. Maybe if he makes her really mad. "Yeah, but now you're injured."

"Hardly. I'm mostly doped up."

"My mom said she didn't give you much."

He chuckles. "I think she snuck in a few more cc's than necessary, actually. She does that, sometimes."

She gives him a look. "How many times have you been in here?"

He shrugs. "I'm a regular. Usually for minor things."

"What are _minor_ things?"

"Uh..." he says, glancing at himself. "I guess bone fractures or bullet wounds."

She looks at him with wide eyes. "How many times have you gotten shot?"

"Katniss..." he sighs. "I don't know. Enough."

"Where?"

"Nowhere fatal, if that's what you're getting at."

"No," she says. "Just curious."

"Mm," he answers, almost incoherently. "I can show you my scars later, if you want."

"Only if they're in appropriate places," she smiles.

"Are you joking with me?" he asks, teasing, though his eyes are a tad foggy. "Well, some aren't pretty lookin'."

"That's okay. Mine aren't either."

"Do you have many?"

She half-shrugs. "A few. Probably not as many as you."

"Good," he says. "You don't want all the ones that I have." He looks at her. "Can I see them?"

"My scars?"

"Yeah," he says, then misinterprets her look. "Not right now. Later, sometime."

"Okay...yeah, I'll show you," she says, her hands going up to her hair in habit. It still feels foreign with it down.

He notices. "I like your hair."

She glances at him, her hands stilling in her strands. "Oh, thanks."

"You listened."

She twists a few of them around her forefinger. "Change," she says. "I've been trying."

"Don't try too hard," he says, grinning. "I like you just like you are."

She looks at him, and she crinkles her eyes at him. "Gale...I think you're getting drunk again."

He looks surprised. "No, I'm not."

"If you say so."

"Really," he says, lifting up his good arm. "Totally sober."

She looks skeptical.

"It's called personality, Catnip. And charm," he adds, knowingly. "You know, that thing I'm good at doing to every female but you."

Katniss gives him an amused look. "You didn't charm Johanna."

"What?" he says. "Yeah, I did."

"That's not what she said."

He scoffs. "I give you guys a few days, and you're already talking behind my back."

"It's kind of your fault."

"My fault?"

"You're the one who told me about you guys."

He laughs briefly. "I didn't know you'd go straight to the source."

She smiles. "Johanna is surprisingly easy to talk to. And more open than I thought she'd be."

He squints at her. "Are you becoming...girlfriends?"

It sounds like an accusation. She shifts. "Maybe. I don't know. What's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing," he says, though he smiles crookedly. "But I've got a feeling you two will turn into a pair of monsters."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not for you guys," he answers. "But probably for the rest of the world."

She laughs. "Well, I hope we do become girlfriends. I've never...had one, before. Not a true one. Not really."

Gale gives her a sad look. "Sorry our lives sucked."

She half-shrugs at him. "Can't miss what I've never had."

He never had her, but he sure as hell missed her for those five years. He decides not to say that.

"So...you and my mom," she says eventually, against the sound of his heart monitor. "How did all that happen? I thought she was working in 4."

"Five years is a long time," Gale says. "She moved up to the Capitol when it got out that the hospitals were struggling and understaffed. Not many people wanted to work in hospitals if they lived in the Capitol. The Capitol was always a place people thought about dream lives. Some still do, but you know that's not exactly true."

"Yeah," Katniss agrees. "It doesn't seem like that, from what you've showed me."

"She started working here about three years ago, I think," he says, his hand going up to rub at the cuts on his neck. "It was when I first started up with the squad, too. It only took me a few months to wind up in here, and she turned out to be the first nurse that took care of me." He shakes his head. "At first, I thought it was a bad coincidence. I thought..." he laughs. "I thought she wanted to kill me. When she saw me with my cast on. But she...came over, and she hugged me. And then everything was suddenly okay." He avoids looking at her, glancing down at his hand, chilled from the fluids running through him. "I thought I'd have to work for that. Like I knew I'd have to work for yours. But I didn't. All I did was ask her how she was and she started to cry and...smile."

Katniss doesn't say anything to this, and Gale's too anxious to see what her face looks like.

"She;s a head nurse, now. Actually, she's been one for a long time - she gets to help with surgeries and serious injuries. She works wherever they want her." He pauses, then forces himself to look up at her. "She's done really well for herself."

There's something about her mother's easy forgiveness that Katniss can't quite place. "Why didn't you tell me she was here?"

Gale's chest falls in a sigh. "It never came up in conversation."

"Did it have to?"

Her stare is accusatory.

"How was I supposed to know when it would be the best time to try to get you to open about your mom?"

Their relationship had always been turbulent. Before any of the games started, it only got worse after the fact. Her mom always had something about her, like she was a sleeve of something Gale had never been able to see. She was an unwinding piece of cloth, with no mannequin to dress. Sometimes Katniss would talk about her in the forest when they were younger. Once they had come to trust each other and talk about the things that bothered them, her mom would be the one thing that Katniss loudly voiced. It had only been once or twice, but the conversations were significant. Yet, they went on, and Katniss would always go back to her house with a scrap of meat to share.

Gale had thought he had a handle on her mom - aloof, distant, sometimes cold. Other times, professional and secure and brilliant. She could heal a man with a pint of blood left in his body, if she wanted. A miracle worker. A gem. But those moments were blemished by all her mistakes.

Gale doesn't think he's ever been so close to Katniss's mom before now. He feels like he knows her well enough to defend her. She's helped him more times than he can count, and whether she was partial toward him all those years ago, he'll never know. Just because he helped her family survive didn't mean much. But they don't talk about those days past and gone. They do talk about present things. And they talked about Katniss.

They talked about Prim once or twice. They switched words over Peeta, though Gale didn't have much to say. They talked about Hazelle and family, and the necessity of keeping them.

But they both knew how hard it was. She kept telling him how she'd go back, one of these days. _I'll go back._

She just hadn't gotten around to it, whether by business in the hospital or fear, it didn't matter. And actions are severely harder to follow through with.

Katniss gives him a look. "It just would have been nice to know she was here."

"Well, you know now."

She shakes her head. "We're strangers."

"Take five minutes to talk to her."

"Yeah," Katniss trails. She glances up to the clock on the wall, and it's nearing night.

"It's dinner time," she tells him. "Do you want something from the cafeteria?"

"Not hungry," he answers. "I think the IV is like a feeding tube."

She gives him a once over, not really believing him. But his eyes are closed, and she thinks that all he really wants is sleep.

"I'm gonna go eat."

"You mean, I don't have to force you?"

She goes to stand, regarding him with exasperation. "I'm a big girl."

He cracks an eye open to her. "If you take too long, I'm going to go find you."

"I'm sure the nurses would love that."

"I wear hospital gowns pretty well, huh?"

Her lips want to tug up in a smile. She shakes her head at him. "I'll be back soon."

When she's almost out the door, he speaks up. "Give her a chance."

Katniss doesn't answer him as she closes the door, but she knows that she's going to. It seems that there never was another option.

* * *

Finding her mom is not an easy task. She eventually goes up to the desk on the same floor, and tells the nurse occupying the station that Miss Everdeen's daughter is in the cafeteria, and to page her when she can.

The cafeteria is lonely, eating at a table by herself. She's been spoiled by having too much company the past few days.

She waits, and waits, and wonders why she's waiting. She dumps out her tray, and against her better judgment, proceeds to the different food stations, and picks up portions of entrees for Gale.

Her mother arrives as she's walking to the door. Her hair is less tidy than it was when she was in the room, earlier. They both examine each other, until her mother says, "Can we...talk for a few minutes?"

She's forgotten what her mom's features look like. She forgot what shade of blue her eyes were.

"Yeah," Katniss says, walking back to a vacant table. Her mom follows behind her.

* * *

"Thank God, Gale."

Reeva walks in moments after Katniss leaves. Gale absently wonders if they saw each other.

"Hey, Reeva. Miss me?"

She takes the seat Katniss left, and she leans on the cot, glancing over him worriedly. She ignores his teasing. "What happened? Are you really hurt?"

Gale gives her a half-shrug. "Just a few broken ribs. I'm not that bad."

Her eyes assess him thoroughly. "If they've kept you in here, it must have been bad."

"It's because I was poisoned."

"...poisoned?" she asks, reaching a hand out to push his bangs back from his forehead. "How? From what?"

"They said a dagger," he says. "But I can't remember anything that happened to me. That's the most frustrating part."

Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Was it from the poison?"

"Can't think of what else it could be from. I don't have any knots on my head."

Her nails graze into his hair, touching his scalp.

"I did miss you," she says, after a while. "I'm glad they didn't hurt you too badly."

Gale doesn't miss her wording. "I wish I knew who they was. If it was even a they."

"Yeah..." she says, and he can't keep her eyes in contact with his. "Me too. Then you could beat them up, and they'd be gone forever." She smiles.

He sighs, and lets his head fall into her fingers. "I know it's the group, though. It must have been a threat."

Her eyes glint. "You think so?"

"I know so," he says, eying her. "There wasn't anyone outside - especially not after that snow and that speech from that woman. Did you got caught up in that nausea, too?"

She slowly shakes her head. "No. I was in my office the whole time it happened. I only knew about it from the news."

"Nobody contacted you?"

"Not until this morning, when I heard you were here."

Gale wishes he wasn't so vulnerable, right now. He's much better at getting information by more forceful or delicate propositions.

"I'm glad you didn't have to experience it. It was awful."

She turns sympathetic, still rubbing at his head. "I heard."

They're silent a while. Gale concentrates on his next words.

"You know...I think it was a girl," he says. "Another girl. I bet she attacked me as a...as a warning." He watches her face. "I mean, if she was able to poison me while we were fighting, she could have easily killed me, couldn't she? But she didn't."

"How..." Reeva trails a second. "How do you know it's a girl?"

"Just a guess..." he says quietly. "But it would make sense. Poison, to make me weak. Then she did whatever she wanted with me. Who knows what she did to me."

Reeva's eyes pulse with something. Gale isn't sure if it's a ripe shade of jealousy or anger. But it's something.

"You do have a way with words when you want to, Gale," Reeva says, tightly. "But if it was a girl, I don't think she'd want to break your ribs."

"Maybe she's really kinky," Gale says. "You know. Into that hardcore masochism. Maybe I screamed bloody murder, and she liked it."

She tilts her head at him, and he can tell she's trying to conceal her quick-flare emotions. "So you're saying that she could have had that kind of power over you?"

He gives her his best smile. "Why not? I can see _you_ having that kind of power."

She raises a cleanly plucked brow. "Me?"

"Sure," he says. "You've always had some kind of power over me."

She smiles at this, as if she's appeased at the statement. Her teeth are flat and white, but he can see them growing into fangs, and he can see her having a hunger in her eyes. Maybe it's the soft cushion of the medicine, but she's always been a bit overpowering.

"I put a spell on you," she says, her voice creamy and delicate. It's warm against Gale's ears.

"Maybe you have," he says back. "Once I get out of here, wanna see how strong that spell is?"

She hums at him before giving a soft laugh. "You have broken ribs, Gale."

He shrugs. "Broken bones haven't stopped me before."

She stares at him for a long time, as if she's thinking very hard about something. Her lips pucker in concentration, until she finally asks, "Do you love me, Gale?"

The question surprises him, but he tries not to show it. Was this a trick, or a test? He can't put past her hesitation in the conversation minutes before - she knows something. And he has to keep her trust for a while longer. He needs to keep her.

He swallows, and he looks into her eyes. "Love is...a hard thing for me to do," he starts, reaching out his good hand to touch her cheek, trailing down to her lips. "But when I look at you, that's what I feel."

She stares at him even more, and it strikes him that she might see through his lie. He gives her a slight smile.

"You don't have to say it back," he says. "But you needed to know that," he adds. "Before this group succeeds in killing me."

She scoffs at him, and he tries to notice any emotion in her. "Gale, I'd never let them kill you."

She says it naturally, though he can't help hearing the double meaning. He lets his smile grow and shifts on his cot. He's got to be sure about this, to make sure she believes him.

"You can stay here, tonight. If you want. The chairs aren't that comfortable, though."

She glances at his bed sheet. "Is Katniss still here?"

Gale shifts. "She didn't have anywhere else to go. But her mom lives close by. She can always spend the night with her."

Gale wonders if that's true. If not, Johanna can always take her to her apartment. She has to be protected - and something tells him she needs to be protected. When she left the room - before she left the room. And to make sure she's safe is what he has to make sure happens. If she's with him, right now, he isn't sure he'd have enough power to do anything, and it would be another unforgivable thing.

"Tempting, Hawthorne," she says. "But you can't shuttle her away, forever. How long is she staying?"

Gale thinks quickly. If she has something planned, and it involves Katniss, then the quicker it can happen, the better, and the faster this can all be done.

"A few more days, give or take," he answers. "I think she misses her boyfriend."

She sighs. "She's taken a really long tour."

Gale chuckles at her. "A week isn't too long. I haven't been able to take her many places."

"You took her to District 4," she says, and it's almost childish.

"For a day," he tells her. "And almost the whole time, I didn't see her."

"But she's been sucking all your time away from me," she says, curling up closer to him. "I don't want her to be here, anymore."

Gale clenches his jaw for a second. "Like I said, she won't be here in a few more days."

"A few days is a long time," she whispers, though her eyes betray her.

"They'll be over before you know it," he says, as simply as he can.

She frowns a little at him, before touching his face and leaning in to kiss him.

* * *

Katniss fidgets some in her seat while her mom looks over her. She keeps to herself, though Katniss can tell that she wants to be closer.

"How've...you been, Katniss?" she asks, first. "I never imagined you coming to the Capitol."

How had she been, really? The past years feel like a blur, like her life was on pause. But Peeta was there, and he made it all seem much more bearable than it could have been.

"Fine," she says carefully. "Peeta was the one to suggest me coming here. He thought it would be...good for me."

"Oh," her mother says, eyes softening. "I'm glad he did. Is he here with you?"

The thought makes her mind go blank. She needs to call him, soon. "No."

Her mother looks at her, frowning, and she thinks she's going to ask her why. But she surprises Katniss when she doesn't. There must be something on her face that she sees. Her mom had always been good at reading her.

"Is he still working at the bakery?"

"Yes, he's...we're doing well with it. Everyone loves him, you know."

"He was hard to not like," her mom smiles. "You're happy with him?"

The answer is automatic on her tongue. Yes, she's happy with him. Yes, she'll always be with him, marriage or not. He's her companion now, living in that house and going through the motions.

He's always there for her, taking care of her, and helping her learn how to want to take care of herself again. His soft touches, his sweet caresses, his loving kisses. He loves her very much - he tells her every day.

And that's what happiness is. Nothing in life had been overindulgent, and the closest thing to happiness she had ever thought she had felt had been in that forest, hunting and trying to survive life with Gale. It was a time to be herself, and it was surprisingly the most freed she had felt.

Did she feel that with Peeta now?

She glances to the tray with the food on it, the warm foods surely chilling over.

"Yeah," she answers. "Yeah, I'm happy."

Her mom smiles sadly in answer. "I'm glad, Katniss. No one deserves happiness more than you."

"What about you?" Katniss asks, desperate to be rid of the spotlight. "Do you like it here? Gale told me about you moving from District 4."

"Yes, I like it here. The people are friendly, and the atmosphere is very nice," she says, glancing around the room. "There's always a lot to do. Keeps me busy."

"I'm sure," Katniss says, though she regrets it immediately after seeing her mother's face. She clears her throat. "Gale said you moved because there was a shortage here."

Her mom places her hands in her lap. "That's...part of the reason. The other reason was to...try to help myself with...everything. To help the people Prim would have wanted to help," she says, trying to smile. She doesn't stutter on her name or flinch, and Katniss knows she shouldn't be as surprised by this as she is. "It's been a long five years," she continues. "And it's been...rough. But sometimes I dream that she's smiling down on us."

It's a funny thought, thinking that she had only let herself start to think of Prim like that a night ago, when her mom's been making it for several years, by herself, with no one to help her.

Why did _she_ need so much help?

Katniss stares at the wood-stained table, debating inside herself. Was she truly worse than her mom? Her mom probably still had her periods of detachment - but Katniss can honestly tell herself that she's been doing that as well. Those five years...staring out a window and watching the seasons pass, and slowly disintegrating.

Peeta's become her, over the years. Baking for her, making her smile when he can. Helping her to survive when she couldn't do it for herself.

But Peeta's heart is too big to ever look at Katniss with contempt, like Katniss could with her mother. And Katniss suddenly realizes what she's been missing this whole time.

"Katniss?" she hears her mother say, but she can't see her face past her tears. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

God, why has she been so blind and stupid? She rubs at her face with her hands.

"No, mom," she says, and she steels herself against sobbing. "I'm not okay. But I need to - I need to start trying to be okay."

Her mom's voice is thick with sadness. "Oh, baby," she says, giving gentle hushing sounds. Her arms come around her, and she's already by her side, placing Katniss's head on her shoulder, and Katniss lets her, because she's missed this so damn much.

Her mother still smells like healing herbs and home, even through her scrubs and the time passed, and she wonders why she didn't notice it when she first hugged her. She wraps her arms around her tightly, wanting the uniform to become part of her skin, too.

"I missed you," Katniss says, muffled in her mom's shoulder, repeating her mother's words, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care, because they're true.

Her mother holds her until Katniss is ready to let go.

* * *

When Katniss gets to Gale's room again, she's carrying newly reheated food on the tray, though there isn't much there. Her mother told her what he liked when he's here overnight - and it turned out to be shredded, fried potatoes and jello. She didn't believe her mom at first, but she only laughed at her and said he liked to eat junk when he was hurt.

The jello looks kind of disgusting. She stares at it move the whole trip to his room.

When she walks through the door, however, she's unpleasantly surprised.

"I brought you - Oh, Reeva," she says, interrupting herself and glancing at Reeva and her unmistakable red hair, sitting in the chair beside Gale. "I didn't know you were coming."

Reeva smiles at her, and Katniss can't help but feel small. "Yes," she says. "And I'm spending the night."

Gale sighs inwardly at Reeva, then glances to Katniss. He blinks at the tray in her hand.

"You brought me food?"

Katniss shifts weight on her feet. "It's not much..." she says, trying her best to ignore the holes Reeva burns into her skin. "Mom told me you usually ate this when you were here, so..."

She feels a little better when he smiles at her.

"Thanks, Catnip. You didn't have to - "

"Yes, you didn't have to, but thanks," Reeva interrupts, standing and walking over to Katniss, taking the tray from her. "Saved me a trip doing it myself."

Katniss glares at the back of her head as she moves back to her seat, placing the tray in Gale's lap. Then she nudges Gale, giving him an obvious look. Gale rubs at his neck.

"Hey, Katniss...I was wondering if you could spend the night with your mom, if you guys have gotten to talk, or Johanna, tonight," he says, eyes urging. "Reeva's going to stay here with me, so you can do what you want. You don't have to stay here."

Katniss immediately feels something akin to betrayal rush through her - though she's not sure why she does. She's not glued to his side, and he's giving her a free pass to get away from him. Again.

But with Reeva looming, she can't help but feel like Gale's trying to get rid of her. His eyes seem as if they're pushing her out of the room.

"Oh," is all she can seem to say. "Oh, um, okay." She feels herself turning to the door, feeling her lips curl in a sneer. "Enjoy your food," she manages to mutter.

She accidentally slams the door.

* * *

a/n; anon replies:

anon: :D hahaha.

Nicole: hopefully the reunion with her mom wasn't too depressing~! but it just seemed to fall out of me that way. at least they're mostly okay now. :) and Reeva's a slow burn, but you can tell she's gonna start bursting flames, soon, huh? ;)

mae: SEXY. YEAAHHH. thanks for that. writing kisses are either way easy or way hard for me. depends on the day/my mood. ;) BUT SEXY, YAY! and look, no awkwardness between them! well, at least, not yet. :D haha. i'm so glad you liked the chapter! hopefully it makes up for this one ;)

everyturnasurprise: :D i bet i made you really, reaaally hate Reeva now, huh?

Jamie: pain always makes the heart grow fonder, yeah? at least, that's how it is for Katniss, all the time. ;) i don't know if the confrontation turned out like you were expecting, but Gale knows he was omnoming on her, at least. :D no worries about a long review! I LOVES THEM LOTZ.


	18. intolerable

a/n; now rated M for extra sauciness and because i'm insecure about rating things. and because M on FFnet is considered to only contain _brief_ sexual suggestion. don't report me if i go overboard later, 'kay guys? and sorry i haven't gotten to review replies, but i will. turns out i _actually_ have some of a life besides writing this. totally doesn't mean i don't love every one of you, though.

chapter eighteen - intolerable

'when you came in, the air went out  
and every shadow filled up with doubt  
i don't know who you think you are  
but before the night is through  
i want to do bad things with you' - bad things, jace everett

* * *

Katniss finds her mother in no time at all and ends up sleeping at her apartment a few blocks down the road. She doesn't tell her she was kicked out of Gale's room or that she had nowhere else to go, but her mother doesn't seem to mind either way.

When they get to the apartment, it immediately reminds her of Gale's, though it's more compact and less spacey, and a perfect fit for her mother. She has bookshelves on the walls, filled with new medical books, some collecting dust and others with permanent bends in the spine.

There isn't much color, but there doesn't have to be. Katniss finds that she likes it, because it reminds her of her old home in the Seam. And no matter how hard those days were, she still finds herself fond of them.

"You're staying with Gale, you said?" Elaine asks, tidying up the area around the living room. Katniss takes a seat on the couch.

"Yeah," Katniss says uneasily. "I think I'm still getting used to it."

"An apartment isn't a forest," she agrees. "But you seem to be doing just fine." She gives Katniss a smile. "Come on, it's been a long day. Let's get some sleep."

There's only a bed in her mom's room, and it's made for two instead of one. Katniss insists that she'll sleep on the couch, though her mother tells her that she can share the bed. Katniss takes the couch, until she can't stand it, and finds herself lying beside her mom.

They wake up bright and early to get to the hospital. Her hours are long and taxing, from seven a.m. to ten p.m. though she doesn't seem to mind them. "I'd rather be working than staring at the walls," she tells Katniss, and Katniss easily understands this.

They eat a quick breakfast before taking off, and her mom suddenly asks, "So, Gale's girlfriend..."

Katniss rolls her eyes. "What about her?"

"I've never met her," she says, as she opens the door to leave. "I've heard she's very pretty."

"On the outside, maybe," Katniss can't help but answer. "She's not very pleasant."

Her mom frowns at her. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's the truth," Katniss shakes her head. "Just meet her. You'll see."

Her mom looks at her a little more closely than Katniss would like. Katniss hunches her shoulders. "What?"

"Nothing," she says, but she can't hide her smile. "So you two are getting along, now? You and Gale?"

Katniss doesn't have to think about that anymore. "Yeah. I feel like we're...we can be friends again."

Her mom smiles at this. "That's wonderful. I know Gale must be very happy."

Her hickeys burn at the statement. She narrows her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she says blandly, tugging at her loose hair.

"Oh, he is," her mom assures. "We've talked about you, believe it or not. And he missed you just as much as I have."

Gale's glazed eyes and grin enters her mind from the morning before. "I...guess so," she allows.

Her mom looks at her. "Did you not miss him at all?"

Now, that's something she hasn't let herself think about much. Besides in 4, in the forest, missing the friendship.

"I did," Katniss answers, eventually. "A little. Not a lot, but some."

Her mom smiles again at this, and Katniss doesn't see what's so amusing.

"What?" she finally asks.

"Nothing," her mom says. "I'm just happy that you're finally letting him back in. I think it's what he needs."

Katniss raises a brow at her. "What he needs for what?"

"To live," she says, simply. "No telling how many girls I've seen him hang around these past few years, and they never last long." She shakes her head. "I think once you two completely dissolve whatever ill feelings you have toward each other, he'll be able to keep a girlfriend, and be happy."

Katniss thinks about that the rest of the way to the hospital. She has a feeling they'll haunt her.

* * *

They end up at Gale's room about seven-thirty, Katniss having to wait for her mom to sign in and chat with the fellow nurses, and getting updates on certain patients.

Katniss finds that she's sawing at her nails with her teeth as they enter Gale's room. But to her utmost delight, Reeva's already gone. She sighs.

Gale remains sleeping, and Katniss takes her spot in the chair beside him. Her mom goes around to the screen of the IV stand, reading calculations and tapping certain buttons. She jots things down on her clipboard and hums noises to herself as she does.

Katniss looks over to Gale, and she notices the crumpling of his bed sheet, as if someone slept there with him. She automatically wonders how Reeva was able to fit, until she realizes that Gale is off-center on the bed. His face is very peaceful.

"Looks like he'll be able to leave today," her mother says across from her. "No more poison running through his system, no fever, his organs seem to have repaired fairly quickly, as well..."

Katniss looks to her. "Really? Already?"

Her mom smiles. "The only reason we kept him overnight was because the poison was still in him. But he's fine now. He'll be in some pain, sure, and he'll have a bit of trouble doing activities that he usually does daily. For the most part, he'll only have to be careful not to hit his ribs on anything. And I'll give him some medication to take with him." She looks down at him, and Katniss thinks she's grown very fond of him, by her face. "He's a trooper. If he acts tough and hides his pain, don't believe him for a second."

"I wasn't," Katniss affirms, glancing down to Gale's face.

"You can leave whenever he wakes up, or whenever he feels up to it," her mom says, smiling at her. "Let me know when you do."

It takes a few more minutes before Gale's eyes open, and he immediately shifts to glance to her. Upon seeing her, he smiles.

"Glad you're back," he says, voice thick from sleep. "Last night, I think..." he starts, before trailing off, as if thinking better of it. "I mean...well..."

Katniss gives him a funny look. "Last night, what?"

Gale decides he's too tired to go into the details of Reeva probably being a part of the resistance group. He sighs deeply, rubbing a hand at his face. He tests his right arm, too, to find that's it's fully movable, but hellishly sore.

"Ah," he says. "Nothing. Sorry 'bout kicking you out last night."

Katniss feels her back straighten at the mention, Reeva's victorious smirk as she took the tray from her hands flits past her eyes.

"It's...fine," Katniss forces herself to say. "You've been separated a while. You needed some quality time with her."

Gale stares at her for a moment, trying to decipher her coldness. He frowns. He's pretty sure that her perception of quality time and what really happened between them are two completely different things.

"We'll have plenty of time for quality time later," Gale says. "Were you able to stay with your mom or Johanna?"

"Yeah," Katniss says, looking at the side wall. "My mom. We're fine, now. Caught up. It's...as close to normal as it's ever been."

Gale gives her an easy smile. "That's great, Catnip. I knew it'd only take you half a day."

She rolls her eyes. "Ha-ha."

He suddenly wants to know what they talked about. Katniss doesn't look very happy, however. He forgoes trying to ask.

"We can leave whenever you want to," Katniss tells him a second later. "Mom's orders."

"Good. Reeva went to get some clothes for me. We'll leave once she drops them off."

"She's coming _back_?"

His brows raise at her exclamation. "Just for a minute. She has to go to work."

Katniss bites the inside of her cheek and glares at the floor.

He watches her. He knows that Reeva makes her uncomfortable, but Katniss seems to be more than uncomfortable. More detached and chilly.

Reeva arrives soon after, opening the door with a flourish and a beaming smile. It falters slightly at the sight of Katniss sitting in the chair.

"Hi, Katniss," she greets, much warmer than the day before. "Sorry about yesterday. I was worried about Gale all day - I guess that kind of leaked into my personality."

Katniss stares at her, crossing her arms across her chest. "Oh...it's, um, it's alright."

Reeva answers with another smile. Then she walks over to Gale, pulling out folded clothes from her carrying bag. She puts them on his lap, leaning over to say in his ear, "I brought you my favorite briefs." She says it in a whisper, but it smoothly carries over to Katniss. She doesn't have it in her to blush.

Reeva leans back just enough to give him a frisky smile, then dips in for a long, slow kiss. Katniss stares for a second, before looking away.

"I'll call you later, 'kay?" she mumbles in a coo.

"Sure," Gale answers back, eyes taken on her. "Paylor will probably house arrest me for today, anyway."

"She's a smart lady." Reeva flicks his bangs back. "See you," she says. Then she glances over to Katniss. "Maybe next time we'll get to see each other under happier circumstances."

Katniss forces the best smile she can afford to give, though it's very lacking compared to Reeva's. "Hopefully," she answers, but she's got a feeling that isn't possible.

When the door closes behind her, Gale sighs and gathers his clothes in a messy wad. He swings his legs over the best he can over the side of the bed, stopping once he gets himself sitting up. He breathes a laugh at how hard it is.

Katniss stands and walks over beside him. "Need help?"

He's smiling, though it's a mean one. "That fucker's gonna pay," he says in answer, going to stand himself. Katniss goes and puts her shoulder underneath his arm in a supportive stance.

"I can handle this fine, Katniss."

"I'm sure you can," she says, matching his hard stare with her own. "But you'll be able to recover faster with help."

He grunts. "Don't feel so obligated to - "

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she says sharply, jerking under his arm. He winces. "It's not an obligation."

They look at each other for a while.

"Wanna help me dress, too?"

Katniss glares. He finally allows his eyes to soften.

"Alright, Catnip. Lead away."

* * *

Katniss's mom gave them one of her potent salves before they left, along with a rub on anesthetic.

"Put it on at least a few times a day," she had told him. "It'll help the bruising and the healing of your ribs. And if the pain is too unbearable," she added, handing him the smaller container. "Then dab this on. It should numb them. I wouldn't recommend it if you're doing something you shouldn't, like training with your squad," she said, giving him a scolding look. "Because you won't be able to know if you hurt them more."

Then she gave him a hug and told him to be more careful.

In the taxi, Gale takes his phone out and calls Paylor. He explains something about not remembering nor getting the information he needs. Not all of it. It's very vague, and Katniss feels thrown out of the loop.

"Stay home, today Gale," Paylor tells him. We'll plan a...get together tomorrow. And we'll invite Reeva. I'm sure you know how to play her heartstrings. And we'll all be around to help. Surely you'll need it, considering."

Gale grunts in response and hangs up.

"Hey, Gale," Katniss starts, but he interrupts her and makes another call. She sighs.

"Hey, Bolts? Yeah, I was wondering about Dione..."

Bolts sounds as if he's sitting down. "Turns out Johanna was right. According to myth, her and Calypso are sisters. And they have another one, by the name of Maera. Haven't seen her yet, have we?"

The question isn't rhetorical. Gale laughs a little. "Maybe we have, Bolts."

Bolts makes a noise. "But it's only these three, together. And there's not much information about Maera at all, if we go with the fact that she's sister to Calypso and Dione. But there are several other Maera's in mythology. One's a hound, one's part of another family entirely..."

Gale stares at the back of the seat in front of him. "She's got many faces, I guess. I'll figure out the one she really uses."

Bolts is silent for a while. "Be careful, kid. Don't meet up with her in a dark alley."

Gale laughs and hangs up.

Katniss looks at him after he puts his phone back into his pocket.

"What was that about?"

He turns his head to glance out the window. "Just some new information about the group. I'll tell you more later."

She glares. "Tell me about it, now."

Gale glances over to the taxi driver. Can never be too careful, he supposes.

"I'll tell you when we get home."

Katniss sinks into the chair in response.

It's nearing late morning once they make it to Gale's apartment. He stops them before he unlocks the door, turning to her.

"Before we go in," he starts, looking at her. She can't tell if it's the pain making him look so serious, or his previous phone calls.

"I need to tell you. I'm going to look around, try to find something that doesn't belong. Like a microphone or a camera..." he shakes his head at her confused look. "Listen. Things are coming to a head, here. And the last thing I want is to put you in danger."

Katniss looks at him disbelievingly. "You think they sneaked into your apartment while you were in the hospital?"

"No," he says. "I invited her to."

"What?" Katniss stares at his shoulder. "You mean you..."

He unlatches the bolt, going to turn the knob. "Reeva brought me my clothes, Katniss."

Katniss wonders if she was supposed to catch onto this. But she's not sure how she was. Reeva isn't the most pleasant person at times, but who is? Katniss doesn't act nice, usually, and though Reeva may seem to be an overpowering person, could she go so far as to be accused of being part of a resistance group? To sabotage Gale's home and be a part of something that hurt Gale so badly?

After watching them interact this morning, Katniss has a hard time believing Reeva would willingly do something like that. She seemed genuine, regardless of Katniss's dislike of her. Though, there's a spiteful part of her that wants Reeva to be evil, on the wrong side. The mean part of Katniss likes this turn of events.

Katniss follows Gale inside the doorway. She couldn't tell from his tone, but did he really believe Reeva to be the culprit? He didn't act like he did in the hospital - far from. The kiss this morning was nothing if not affectionate.

Or was he acting? Was this all some kind of plan to find Reeva out? Would Gale go that far?

Then she shakes her head. Of course he would go that far. He's Gale.

She watches silently as he makes his way around his apartment the best he can. He had ignorantly forwent putting medicine on himself because he had already dressed.

He glances his hands over shelves, cabinets, looks at his couch and under it, in the kitchen and in the hallway.

"Do you need any help?" she asks him, noticing his breathing.

"No, Katniss, it's fine," he says labored, walking to his room. He goes to his drawers, looks at the few picture frames he has on his bedside table. He looks under his lamp, then at the lights on his fan. It'd be almost comical if he didn't look so pressed and concerned.

He glances around, presses his hand underneath the wood of his tables and the bed, and when satisfied nothing's in his room, he walks through the bathroom to Katniss's.

He goes through the same process, and comes up empty-handed. Besides angry, he looks a little worse for wear.

"Could've sworn," he mutters, face perpetually contorted in a scowl as he passes her back into the hallway. He goes to sit on the couch, grunting as he does. Where would he put a camera, or a mic? Somewhere obvious, but subtle enough to pass over...Somewhere where the whole room would be visible.

He doesn't have many trinkets or decorations sitting around. He's got pictures, and he's got picture frames..

He glances around at the ones on his mantle, slowly. He stands up and walks over to them, eyeballing the glass of each one. He turns them over to look on the back. Nothing seems off...there isn't...

Then he sees a family picture, and it's just off center. The line of the photo doesn't reach all the way to the frame.

He reaches and takes it off the mantle, looking behind it. When there isn't anything suspicious there, he opens the frame and right there, right in the bottom corner where the picture doesn't reach, is a tiny bead, almost tiny enough to fit under his fingernail.

He glares at it, then takes it between his forefinger and thumb and crunches it. He puts the picture back and looks at the other ones, just in case. He doesn't think she'd think about putting one anywhere else. What did she have to watch him for, anyway? Maybe she didn't think he had caught on to her, and having an eye in the apartment would help her with...whatever it was she was looking for.

"Something was in there?" Katniss asks, bewildered as she watches him, and doesn't see what it is that he destroyed.

"Yeah," he says, his voice sending chills down her spine. "Camera feed. They'll know I found it."

A camera feed? Katniss thinks, wondering how a camera could possibly fit... But there have been other things far more bizarre and confounding, especially where the old Capitol was concerned.

"Good find," she whispers to him, watching him back away from the mantle and trying to take a ginger seat on the couch. "So...it _is_ Reeva?"

Gale grits his teeth and leans back into the cushions. "She's a part, at the very least."

Katniss isn't sure what to say - if she learned her boyfriend was stringing her along for months...she'd be angry. Really angry. Probably upset. Would Gale let himself be heartbroken over her? It's possible, unless he had an idea all along. And if he did, would he still be disappointed that his suspicions were correct?

Katniss is mad at herself for not knowing without having to ask. She gently takes the seat by him, wondering what his eyes would look like if they were open.

"Sorry, Gale," she says, soft. "I know you were close to her."

"Just a little," he says, a scowl still in place. "I've had time to get used to it."

She pulls her knees up with her, accidentally bumping his leg. His eyes open at the contact, and she isn't sure if the detached look is because of the camera or the pain.

"Aren't you sad?" she asks. "You were with her for a while..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, like an audible sigh. He turns his head slightly to her. "Not really," he answers. "Girls like her are a dime a dozen. Maybe less," he shrugs. "I don't make many attachments. I knew better than to make one with a girl so volatile."

Katniss tries to make sure he's telling the truth, looking at him very closely.

"You say it so easily," she says.

"Why are you surprised?" he snips, eyebrows knitted. "I've been this way ever since..." he stops, as if changing his mind on his words. "Ever since...I was fourteen. Girls are just one of those things."

"What things?" Katniss asks, feeling her blood start to boil, though she isn't sure why.

Ge rubs at his hair. "I don't know. An accessory. Something to play with until I get bored. They don't really matter."

Katniss crosses her arms. "That's not necessarily true."

He laughs humorlessly. "C'mon, Katniss, I've been around for five extra years, and I haven't found one girl that's anything like..."

His stomach drops at the realization of the path the conversation is headed. He quits talking before he says anything else incriminating.

But he had told himself once, if he found a girl who could shoot a bow and arrow half as good as Katniss could, maybe it'd be a sign. But the Capitol is no place for a woman to shoot arrows, and he's had a hard enough time enjoying the women here.

She raises a brow. "Like?"

"Like my type," he finishes, turning his head away from her and reaching for the remote on the side table next to him. He pushes the television on, wanting the background noise for distraction.

She almost asks him what his type really is, before she refrains. She's got a feeling that she won't want him to answer truthfully. Instead, she voices something that's bothering her.

"You should put medicine on."

He sighs agitatedly. "I'll do it later."

Katniss gives him an exasperated look. "Gale, the pain is making you almost intolerable. You need to put it on."

"Intolerable?"

She nudges him roughly with her elbow. "Stop trying to act tough. We both know you can't stand it."

He sighs. "I've had worse things happen to me."

She glares. "Like what, exactly?"

He grumbles something incoherent, then says, "Never mind."

Katniss jumps out of her seat after this, and goes to grab the medicine left on the table when they arrived. She walks back and stands in front of him.

"Katniss...

"I don't know why it's so hard for you to just put on medicine," she says tiredly, taking her seat again and tugging on his shirt. "Take it off."

He sighs, but he relents, going to unbutton his shirt. He opens it moments later, showing a very nasty wound on his side. The cut still looks raw, the coloring vivid with purples and reds.

"You should have let my mom put this on you."

"It's not nearly as bad as it looks."

She opens the salve container and dips her forefinger and middle finger in. It comes out like a dollop of lotion, cold and medicinal, tingling her skin. It smells severely potent.

"I can do it, Katniss."

Katniss glares at him again. "You won't do a good job."

"I wouldn't have to. It's salve."

Katniss ignores him and leans over, dabbing the medicine in the middle of his raw skin before he can stop her. He hisses at the contact, and one hand grips the armrest tightly.

"Damn it," he grits, and Katniss retracts her hand.

"Does it hurt that bad?"

"It'll get better."

Katniss tentatively looks back to the angry wound, then continues to rub in the salve. She tries her best to block out Gale's restrained noises, but every once in a while looks up to him, seeing his eyes and jaw tightly shut. After a few minutes, she notices a sheen of sweat gathering on his chest.

"Almost done," she whispers, running her fingers over his bruises. He flinches and jerks a few times, but remains relatively still.

"Take your time," he growls, but she can't tell if he's trying to be funny.

Once it's all rubbed in, she leans away and stands up. "I'm going to get you a cold towel," she says, though his eyes are closed and his face tight.

She searches a few cabinets before finding the stack of towels. When she gets back, he's shifted onto his back, the armrest acting as support for his head.

"Hey," she says, kneeling in front of the couch and wiping at his forehead with the towel. "Want any anesthetic?"

He hums at the coldness, raising his hand and placing it on hers, slipping the towel away from her. "Not today. I'll put it on tomorrow before running."

She gives him an incredulous look. "You are _not_ running tomorrow."

"Yes, I am," he says, cracking an eye open to see her. "Why d'you think she gave me any in the first place?" He leaves the towel on his face, putting his arm above his head. "I just need a day to make sure I don't do anything stupid to them."

She reaches over and takes the towel, glancing at the sweat still on his chest. She wipes at it, and he closes his eye again, his body heaving in a sigh. He moves his and again, and places it on hers, effectively stopping her.

"Thank you, Catnip," he whispers, looking at her. "I'm okay, now."

She stares at their hands. "You're still sweating."

"I'll stop soon," he says.

The look at each other for a while, before she looks away. She can't bring herself to pull her hand out from under his. He's very warm.

"Are you hungry?" she asks, eventually.

His eyes are a light shade of silver as he glances over her. "I'll feed myself, later," he answers. "I just want to lie here for a minute."

She narrows her eyes at him. "You've fed me the past few days. The least I can do is make you something while you rest."

He gives her a soft smile, his left hand coming up and touching her face. She almost flinches, but she keeps calm. It seems he's much bolder when he's wounded.

"You don't have to do anything for me," he tells her, his voice deeper, and weighted.

She takes in a breath, and her tongue doesn't deny her as she says, "We're friends, Gale. And friends do things for each other."

At the statement, he drops his hand, and he looks at her differently.

"Yeah," he says, gruffly. "Okay."

She stands up, then goes to his kitchen and tries her best to fix him a heavy lunch.

* * *

They end up lounging on his couch for most of the afternoon. They watch television for most of it, glancing over the news a few times, the whether cold and overcast, with light, _normal_ snow fall.

Gale asks her if she's watched any of the new television shows, and she answers the affirmative, telling him that it's usually what her and Peeta do in the evening after dinner, right before going to bed.

"What's your favorite?"

She stretches one of her legs across the other cushion of the couch, and Gale can't help but like that she's taken a seat right beside him. She thinks about it, flipping channels with the remote.

"I don't know..." she trails, stopping on a cooking show. "Peeta likes watching Cupcake Wars."

Gale chuckles a bit, not very surprised. "What do you like?"

"I don't think I have a preference, really."

Gale thinks. "What about Gunpowder? That one's okay."

She makes a face. "I don't care for it."

He thinks some more. "What about those soap opera shows? I bet you_ love_ those."

She laughs. "So much."

"Cartoons?"

"Maybe ten years ago."

"Oh, I've got it," he says, smiling. "The Bachelorette."

"You're kidding."

"C'mon, Catnip," he says, placing his arm on top of the couch, above her shoulders. He leans in. "You know you secretly have fantasies about having twenty-five men after you."

She doesn't lean away from him, opting to raise her brow, challenging him. "Don't switch my fantasies with your own."

"Hardly one of _my_ fantasies," he answers, smirking, and he's overly entertained, and slightly bewildered, when she starts blushing and turns her head away from him. "What? You're blushing."

She blushes harder at the statement. "Nothing," she stammers, taking up the remote again, viciously turning the channels and concentrating on the t.v.

He can't help himself. "Were you thinking of something _dirty_, Catnip?"

She habitually rubs at the side of her neck, rolling her eyes at him, but feeling much too embarrassed. Her neck still burns like he just kissed it, and his words parade around her mind like they're celebrating, though it makes her feel anything but happy.

More like...concerned. Very concerned.

"No," she voices forcefully. "Of course not."

He gives her an amused look. "It's not illegal to think of bad things, Catnip."

Bad things...

His hands on her hips and his tongue in her mouth. _Let me make love to you. Just once._

Definitely not things she should think about.

But she notices how close she is to his side, and the heat she feels coming off of him. She feels her arms prickle, a rush of blood surging to her head.

It _is_ illegal to think of bad things, she warns herself, because it's so worryingly easy _to_ think about them. To think about her hands rubbing his stomach, not for medicine but for curiosity. His face contorted in pleasure and not pain, his hands not cupping her face but cupping her breast, his body hot as he hovers above her, his tongue not in her mouth, but in _her_ and -

Is this what he's thinking when his eyes flicker like that, when he's watching her? She thinks he might be - she thinks he might be thinking all the same things as she is.

It isn't as if she's never had sex before - Peeta's a warm, desirous lover, and he's everything for pleasing her. But when it didn't help, when it didn't leave her forgetting Prim, she wasn't as accommodating, nor was she as easily excitable. And Peeta never forced anything on her. But she sometimes thinks that she wishes he did. To pull her back, to make her see that feeling something so wonderful wasn't a bad thing. Maybe he did try, and she didn't hear him.

But the things she's thinking about right now shouldn't be with Gale in them. Peeta should be, she should be thinking about Peeta cupping her breast and his mouth on her skin. Even if he doesn't know, or never knows, that she kissed Gale or that she thought about Gale doing all those things, is it still unforgivable?

Fantasies aren't real. They aren't real like a kiss is real. But the feelings are real. The strange, sudden lust she feels is real. The wanting for that heat she felt in the hospital is real. And it _does_ worry her, but the worry is obscured by the wonder if the heat will be just as warm as it was before. The terrible curiosity is almost all-consuming. It has her stomach trembling and her lips stinging and her body pounding.

They're too close on this couch.

"I...have to go to the bathroom," she mumbles, all but running out of the room. When she gets there, she splashes her face with cold water and sits on the edge of the bathtub, and tells herself to calm down.

"Are you okay?" he asks, once she appears in the room again. Her face is slightly pale, but other than that, she looks fine.

"Yeah," she says, shaking her head. She takes the seat by him, though she leaves a couple inches more that weren't between them before. He leaves his arm upraised on the couch.

He can't help but wonder what she was thinking earlier, her eyes all glassy and tempting.

When dinner time comes around, Gale makes his way to the kitchen. The medicine is wearing off, but the pain is still bearable. Katniss follows behind him.

"Gale, I can make dinner."

"I'm sure you can, but I want to do _something_ today."

"Then I'll help."

He gives her a look. "Really?"

"Why not?" she says, putting her hands on her hips. "I want to do something today, too."

He laughs at her. "Alright. What do you want to make? The fridge is pretty much stocked."

She puts her hands on the counter. "Can we make stew?"

"I don't think I've got lamb..." he says, rummaging around in the fridge.

She shakes her head. "No, I mean, just any kind of stew. Like rabbit or squirrel."

"Like the good ol' days, huh?"

She shrugs. "I haven't had it in a while..."

He takes out a package and sets it on the counter.

Gale sets out the meat and Katniss takes out some of the vegetables, like carrots, peas, and potatoes. He gives her a knife to cut up the carrots and potatoes while he cuts up the rabbit.

They set a pot with chicken broth on the burner, and Gale gets out ingredients to season it. Once the broth starts steaming, they put the meat and the vegetables in, place the lid on top, and go back to the living room to wait.

The apartment immediately starts to smell like the warm broth, and though she doesn't have to, she checks on it periodically.

They can't stand the smells after an hour, and they retreat to the kitchen to serve themselves. Gale grabs the bowls and Katniss goes to reach the drink glasses. She gets one, but the next closet one is behind it, and she's only able to graze it with her fingers. She pushes herself with her hand on the counter, to no avail.

Gale notices and watches her struggle for a moment. "Here, I can get it," he says, but she ignores him. He comes over behind her and places his hand on the counter near hers, pushing himself up like her, arm bypassing hers in length and grabbing the glass by the rim. When he flattens his feet, his front and her back rub together, and he stiffens at the feeling. She's too short for her butt to fit into the indent of his crotch, but the pressure of her back and her proximity have the same effect.

His hand is magnetized to her hip, and she's just as tense as him. He turns his head to see her glancing at his hand, though he doesn't have enough willpower to let her go.

"Here's your glass," he makes himself say. It comes out thicker than he'd like, but she doesn't seem to notice. She looks up to the glass he's holding out for her.

"Thanks," she says, her voice quiet. She lets herself relax against him before taking the glass in her hand. Her weight on him drives him beyond his self-restraint, and his hand digs lightly into her hip.

She had put her hair into a braid, sometime sitting on the couch. The sight of her neck is clearly visible, the warm olive of her skin unblemished and smooth.

He could kiss it if he wanted - he could act on this side just as he did the other and remember it. He could turn her head to him and taste her tongue, ravish her mouth soundly, make her keen and curl up into him. He could move his hand from her hip and to the button of her jeans, slip them down enough so he could slide his fingers into her panties, get her off with his hand, make her legs tremble, watch her unravel.

He could see if she'd tell him no. He could see if she could want him, just once, just...

She turns her head to look up to him, and her eyes are so stormy and so dark. They're half-lidded, and her face is mere inches away. He can feel her breath on his cheek, and he wonders if she can feel his heart pounding in her back.

He leans in some, and he sees her move in, too, and her lips are so close. He's never wanted her so much as he has in this moment.

His phone rings. Katniss blinks, then jerks away from him. He jumps slightly, his hand letting go of her hip, his feet taking a defensive step back. It takes him a moment to register everything, glancing at her flushed cheeks. He quickly turns away. He rips his phone out of his pocket, not looking at the ID, and gripes, _"What?"_

"Gale? Are you okay?"

It's Reeva. Of course it's Reeva, he thinks. She said she'd call. Why couldn't it have been later? Maybe even a minute later? He could've done so many things in those extra sixty seconds...

"Fine," he says sharply, rubbing at the space between his brows. "Just hurting, I guess. Makes me - _intolerable_." He walks out of the kitchen, evading Katniss's eye as he does.

"Poor baby," she says. "Want me to come over? I can make you feel better."

He stops in the middle of the living room, trying to think logically, his blood still hot. She's giving him a chance to get something out of her - he could put the damn anesthetic on and go to her apartment, nudge information from her and take her in and incriminate her with it. He could find out what the hell is going on behind the scenes, what happened to him the other night - he could break her arms, make her bleed until she finally gives him what he needs and this can be all over. So he can see if Katniss would kiss him willingly or not. So he can just...be with her, a while longer.

Maybe he could just fuck Reeva until he feels better, get this massive attack of blue balls out of his system.

But that would mean leaving Katniss here, alone and unprotected, and even if she still had the fight in her, he's certain that they have the ability to kill her.

He could call Johanna. He could call the whole squad and hole them up in his apartment until he gets back. But someone would have to go with him. They might not even go along with that, besides. Just because it's his day of rest, they'll think he's not up to par on the job. But he is. They could finish this all tonight.

But...but they cooked dinner, together. And he doesn't want to leave.

He needs to go, but he wants to stay, and...and he's got a duty he needs to finish.

"No, Reeva, that's okay, I can..." he falters. What if he fails? What if she gets away from him and he loses their main lead to the resistance group? Katniss will still be in danger. He can't be reckless about this, for once.

"I just...need to rest for a while longer. I'm gonna go to bed soon."

"Oh," Reeva says, sounding disappointed. "I can always help you with bandaging or putting some type of medicine on or...anything."

She sounds eager. Gale isn't sure if it's because she really wants to or if it's because he found the camera.

"I'm alright, Reeva. I've already done it. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? We can go out somewhere."

This seems to pacify her for the time being. He hears her sigh. "Okay, Gale. Get some good rest. Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams," he mutters, then hangs up and throws his phone into the cushion of a chair. He glares at it before taking a seat, a hand resting over his ribs and the other running a vicious hand through his hair.

_One goddamn minute_ is all he's able to think about, sinking into the couch. But that would have been dangerous, so dangerous, if he had the chance. What was he thinking, anyway? Fucking Katniss with his hand in the kitchen - like she would have let him, let alone participated - though he's got to admit, even to himself, that she looked...heady. Her eyes were that same glassy, tempting sheen from earlier on the couch, her lips slightly parted, her hand warm on his, guiding up her stomach...

He blinks. Had her hand been on his? Or was he making that up?

He's got to stop thinking about this. Maybe Reeva had inadvertently saved him from doing something...premature. Something stupid.

He groans frustratedly, standing up and about to walk to the bathroom when he almost runs into Katniss, who's in front of him, holding two bowls of stew. The drinking glasses are conspicuously absent.

She takes a step back from him, and he stops his rampage, and they both apologize at the same time. Katniss holds out a bowl, and Gale takes it. She steps around him and sits on the other end of the couch, staying far away from him. He glances at her, concentrating on her food, and he looks back to his, but he's not as hungry as he used to be.

He clears his throat and tries to eat.

After a while, Katniss asks, "Who was on the phone?"

Gale's too mad about it to lie. "Reeva," he says, a bit disdainfully.

"Oh," she says quietly. "Are you going to see her?"

"Not tonight," Gale answers back.

"Why not?" she says eventually. "You could confront her."

"Trust me," he says. "I thought about it. It's too risky."

"But what if she does something before tomorrow?"

"I'll have to take that chance."

She looks over him, as if trying to read him. "What about your squad?"

"They want to wait until tomorrow."

He watches her look back to her bowl. "I could help you."

He gives her a look. "No."

She cuts her eyes to him. "I want to stop her just as much as you."

He looks at her seriously, before he starts to smile. "Then you can come tomorrow."

"But what if - "

Gale starts laughing, and she stops talking.

"You've gotta be patient about some of these things, Catnip."

She gives him a funny look. "Patient?"

He shrugs. "It's an acquired skill, I think," he says.

She sighs, then spoons in more stew and turns her eyes to the t.v.

Once the bowls are empty and they head to bed, Gale realizes that this is the first time they've eaten together in his apartment.

* * *

a/n; 201 reviews! i just died a little.

anon; you wrote me so many reviews, i have no idea where to start. thank you for telling me what you thought about each chapter! and your compliments, of course. i was definitely cool with all your fjkdaslg;ihj ones, but these were a very happy surprise.

Nicole: your passionate anger toward reeva is always something i look forward to reading. (:

noname: a fan! yay! and my updating schedule tends to be erratic. i meant to update yesterday, but i wasn't able to finish the chapter. -_- BUT i'm trying to update between two to four days, if i can. it's become harder to do, as of late, unfortunately.

everyturnasurprise: :D! i figured gale would be kind of injury prone 'cause he'd not really care about getting injured. something like that. and no johanna :/ but possibly in the next one! this one was basically just gale/kat hangin' out.

Jamie: i'm not sure if you can count this chapter 'lovey-dovey', though a bunch of interaction and mental challenges. katniss certainly does feel something for gale now, haha. and thanks so much! kat/her mom was hard to write. hopefully four days wasn't too long! ;)

mae: trust me, i thought about angst. and then it came out happier-ish. :) way better than all that darkness they've been having lately, huh? and that mother-daughter bonding wasn't huge, but hopefully enough. johanna time later? ;)

goldensnitch: thank you! :) i'm glad i can help disappointed readers, one mind at a time, haha. hope you enjoy the rest!


	19. boom

a/n; it was so hard to put all that i wanted in this chapter. so it's ridiculously long. like, really. ridiculous. and you guys are the coolest. y'all are so fun to talk to. much love.

chapter nineteen - boom

* * *

Katniss can't sleep.

She thinks it's because Reeva's on her mind, and the tiny camera. She keeps looking around her room, paranoid that Gale missed something, a little bead watching her struggle to sleep and every movement in between.

But she's also thinking about the kitchen, and the couch, and how she was almost certain that Gale was going to kiss her again. How she was going to kiss him, back.

Again.

Maybe she would have let him do more. She had been moving his hand up her stomach, getting midway, almost to her chest.

She sighs loudly. What was wrong with her? He kisses her once, and suddenly she aches for him? She never had this problem before.

Maybe that was the problem – never having a problem. She was never one for being physical. It was never on top of her list of things to do – she never wanted someone to settle down with, though she can't say that she's never thought about just messing around. With Peeta, it was so much different. She was with him because she should be. He gave up everything for her, and in turn, she wanted to be able to give up everything for him. But what that entails have always scared her. Marriage. Kids. Things that would make him happy that wouldn't make her happy. Maybe she'd just have to grow into those things on her own.

And now she wonders – she can stay with Peeta for the rest of her life, but this would be the only true time she'd spend with Gale. And suddenly she's thinking about Gale's drunken words in the hospital, how it'd only be once, and how she could let him love her briefly, like a parting gift before she leaves. She can be another one of those girls that he took to the slag heap, to be a drop in his memory and he can be a drop in hers. Besides, if him and Johanna can still be friends, couldn't they?

She pushes her face into her pillow. She hates how she's trying to justify _making love to Gale._ Just because she now notices how handsome he grew out to be, how dangerous his job is and how he could die so simply if he keeps going on like he is. If he wasn't overdramatizing his words when filled with morphling, couldn't she just allow him that one thing?

Maybe it's just hard living with someone of the opposite sex.

She sighs again, punching a hand into her pillow. She shifts and twists and turns, but she eventually gets up and heads to the bathroom. She doesn't notice that the light's already on under the door, and she walks in to come face to face with Gale.

"Oh," she exclaims, stepping back to the doorway. "Sorry, I didn't know you were in here."

He's in the middle of putting salve on his side, wearing only his boxers as sleepwear. He doesn't seem like he's having as much pain as he did on the couch earlier that day, though she catches his face holding a scowl. When he looks up to her, it melts into a smile.

"It's alright. Didn't really think about locking the door."

She feels self-conscious as he glances at her, her legs bare, only wearing a long shirt and her underwear. She tugs at the bottom of it, and stands there awkwardly.

"Do you need to pee or something?"

All she really wanted to do was clear her mind. She sighs. She should go back to her room and not stare at him in his boxers.

"No, just can't sleep. Didn't you put some of that on before going to bed?"

He looks sheepish. "No. It wasn't hurting that bad, earlier."

"My mom said a few times a day, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Gale says, continuing to spread the medicine. "I'll do it more tomorrow."

She presses her mouth into a line, trying to ignore what he looks like under the harsh light of the bathroom. She should probably leave him to finishing up and struggle to sleep again, but the scar of his shoulder is glaring, and denies the disregard of her eyes. It's a different color than the rest of his body, a ragged line of a triangle up and around the top of his shoulder to his back.

"I never visited you," she says after a moment of looking at it. He turns his head to her, giving her a questioning glance. "In 13," she clarifies. "After you went to save Peeta."

He looks back down to himself, all the salve almost rubbed fully in. "A good thing, probably. You know how pissed I was when I figured out they hijacked him?"

She leans against the door frame. "Why? Because he wasn't the same?"

He scoffs a laugh, looking at himself in the mirror. "Yeah. Went through all that just to retrieve a broken prop. Didn't think he was...worth it." At her glaring, he continues. "That's what I thought at first, you know. Getting pumped with all kinds of things to speed up the healing process. Risking my life for something that wasn't necessarily vital to the war, but vital for you to help the war." He shakes his head at himself. "I told myself you weren't going to visit because why should you if you had Peeta back?"

Katniss bites her lip. "There were a lot of things going on with me, Gale…"

He laughs. "I know. I was just a very angry kid back then. Peeta being hijacked only made me hate the Capitol even more. If you visited me, I might have strangled you like he did."

She averts her eyes to the ground. "No, you wouldn't have."

He glances over to her, finishing with his medicine. He puts the lid back on the container. "You don't have to feel bad about it, Catnip. It's in the past. Who cares about that anymore?"

At this, she looks up sharply. "I care, Gale. Look at you," she says, gesturing to the scars she's able to see on him. She tries not to look at his back, because it's puckered with ugly skin that she doesn't want to be there. "I was your friend, and I didn't even thank you for bringing him back to me."

He shrugs. "I knew what it meant to you. You didn't have to thank me."

"But you wanted me to, didn't you?" she says, stepping forward, a rush of knowing hitting her. "You wanted me to sit by your side because_ I_ wanted to. You hoped for me to be there, and pick staying with you over staying with Peeta."

He turns his eyes away from her gaze, stepping back. "You couldn't have believed that I was completely invested in the war because of my reckless altruism, Katniss," he says. "Please. You know why I fought so hard."

She crosses her arms. "You never came up to me. You never told me…"

His eyes harden. "You avoided me every chance you got. And you knew how bad I was with...that. I told you I loved you once, and you have no idea how hard it was for me to say it."

She thinks back to it, the moment just outside of the forest. She glances to the bathroom sink. "You kissed me first, before you told me."

"I thought maybe you would understand from that, and maybe I wouldn't have to," he laughs. "I didn't realize I needed you so much more than you needed me."

This topic makes her feel so sad. "Well, I'm sorry I didn't feel that way for you back then, okay? I'm so sorry I hurt you," she spits out, angrily. "Sorry I couldn't force myself to feel the same way."

His eyes soften at her. "I'm not blaming you, Katniss. I know full well I can't force you to do anything, though I tried. But that was a long time ago."

She's not able to say anything to him for a while. Gale exhales.

"Don't let any of that bother you anymore, alright, Catnip? I don't want you worrying about that stuff if you don't have to."

She glances up to him with cheerless eyes. They linger on his scars. After a moment, she steels herself and walks up to him. She reaches up and touches the discoloration of his shoulder.

"How bad was it?"

He forces a smile at her, putting a hand on her head and rubbing at her head. Her loose hair billows out all around her face. She grimaces at him, and knocks his hand away.

"It really wasn't that bad," he says. "I don't remember most of it."

"What about when you got hit?"

He looks up, taking a discreet step away from her. "I think it hurt. I had a lot of adrenaline going. Didn't feel much, and when I got back, they drugged me up."

"I guess that's better than it could've been," she says, uncertainly. "What about…your other ones?"

"You want me to show you?"

She can't sleep, anyway, and what would be a better way to spend a sleepless night? she thinks a bit sarcastically. He did say he'd show her in the hospital. And if she focuses on the scars, she won't have to focus on her feelings.

* * *

She's not sure how it happens, but she ends up sitting on the corner of his bed, Gale lying stomach up across it. It is surprisingly more comfortable looking at him this way than in the bathroom, regardless of the more suggestive environment.

His side lamp is on, and though the outside weather is chilly, the inside of his apartment fends it off with the heat from the air conditioner. His fan lazily spins above them.

"What's that one from?" she points to his upper chest.

"Shrapnel from a bomb," he says. "During the war, I think. Or maybe it was this one," he says, glancing at the mark next to the one she pointed to. He waves a hand up in the air. "I don't really keep up with all of them."

Katniss scans his stomach, finding a particularly long, faded scar on his lower abdomen.

"What about that one? That one looks pretty bad."

He looks down at it, and to her surprise, starts laughing.

"That was a bar fight."

She looks on dumbfounded. "A bar fight?"

"Some bastard started talking really loud about Snow. I had a government uniform on back then. He just wanted to provoke me, and I let him," he grins. "Fun night."

"Fun?" she asks. "Because he cut you with his beer bottle?"

"Nah," he corrects. "It was a knife. It was pretty fun throwing him around, though. Ever fought when you're half drunk?"

She rolls her eyes, feeling less bad for him.

"I bet it was a blast," she says dryly.

"Yeah," he says, either ignoring her sarcasm or not hearing it. "Got suspended for a week at that bar."

"What did Paylor say?"

"She was pissed," he says, still smiling. "But I was just doing my job. She got over it."

"How long did it take her?"

Gale laughs again. "That whole week I was suspended."

Katniss can see Paylor not taking anything like that lightly. Thinking about an extremely scolded Gale is heartily amusing.

"Um...that one." She points to his side.

"Bullet."

"Did it go in you?"

"Just a graze," he says.

It doesn't look like it was just a graze, but Katniss doesn't prod. She only looks at the mangled, healed flesh.

"What about…your back?" she says, against her better judgment. "I thought mom's treatment kept it from scarring too bad."

"Yeah, there're only a few things left from back then," he says. "The rest is from, ah, when those Peacekeepers took me in, back in the war."

She pulls her legs in, curling up into a ball. "What…did they do to you?"

He glances over to her. "It's probably not as bad as you think." At her skeptical look, he says, "Really. There was too much chaos going on for them to solely concentrate on me. They whipped me a few times again, then bound me. I was just a rag doll when they got angry, is all."

She looks over him. "Gale...that _does_ sound terrible."

He shakes his head. "No, it could have been a lot worse. But since they didn't have anywhere to go since the Capitol was flipped on its side, they dealt with us however they wanted."

Katniss blinks. "Us?"

"There were a few others."

"Oh."

He stares at the ceiling. "There was a woman there. Pregnant. They were treating her badly. Real bad, Katniss." He sighs. "I couldn't stand it. So I had to stick up for her, and they turned on me. I think that's why it looks so bad."

She looks at his comforter, then back to him. "Turn over real quick."

He grimaces. "I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be good for my ribs."

"Now you care?" she asks, pushing at his side with her foot. "I want to see."

He groans but consents, rolling onto his good side. "I'm pretty sure you've seen it before."

Katniss shrugs but he can't see it. "I ignored it when I stitched you up."

She lets her eyes rove over his skin, and she keeps herself from counting the marks. Some of them, she admits, don't look like just lashings.

"What else did they do to you?" she asks. "Some look like they were really deep."

He's quiet for a while, and she wonders if she asked the wrong thing before he starts talking again.

"They wanted to...cut her baby out. I don't know what they were thinking – I remember them saying something about the rest of the rebellious progeny dying. There were two Capitol people in there that they captured, too. They were hysterical, crying and shaking. They were so obviously not rebels, but the Peacekeepers ignored them. I think it was because they were angry, and they felt that they couldn't trust anyone. And that woman…what was I supposed to do? Just watch?" He glares at the ceiling fan. "I couldn't make myself do that. I mean, it was the perfect chance for me to slip away and escape but...she was terrified. And her baby...I kept thinking about Posy, and how I held her when she was little. So I drew their attention, and the woman ran for it," he says. "She mouthed a thank you before leaving. That was nice. I sometimes wonder if she made it very far."

Katniss reaches forward and touches one of the deep gashes. He is tense far before she touches him.

"If she wasn't running toward the square and the bomb, she had a higher chance of surviving," she says back.

"Yeah. I'm so hopeful," he says bitterly.

"You did a good thing," she answers him, running her fingers down the dark lines. "You never know. There could be a happy five year old somewhere that you helped save."

"Sounds a little too heroic if you ask me," he says, trying to laugh.

She ignores him, her finger catching in an indent. She leans to look at it closer.

"Is this from a knife?"

"Probably," he says.

"You're missing skin."

"Sometimes skin can't grow back, Katniss."

She glares at it. "What did they do, carve you?"

He doesn't answer, and her stomach goes cold.

"They _carved_ you," she breathes.

"I'm glad it was on my back," he says. "I have to really work to see all of it."

"Gale –"

"Look at it like it's a piece of art."

"Shut up, Gale," she says loudly, placing her other hand on his back. She rubs at the markings like she can take them away. "These are so _bad_."

"Katniss..."

"How long did they do this?"

"Not long at all," he answers quickly. "Like I said, it was chaotic. They had other things to do. It's probably a lot better than it might have been if the war wasn't so close to finishing."

He rolls onto his back again, and she has to retract her hands. He looks at her face.

"I shouldn't have shown you," he says.

"Yes, you should have. I asked."

He smiles crookedly. "Didn't think it'd make you so emotional. When'd you become sentimental, anyway?"

She gives him a dirty look. "I'm not sentimental. It's just a lot to think about."

He looks at her flatly. "Not really."

She glares.

"So what about your scars?"

She curls in her legs again. "What about them?"

"You said you'd show me yours if I showed you mine."

She rolls her eyes and makes herself not think about her previous thoughts in her bed. Besides, this show and tell of scars is a little heavy, and it lowers her hormone activity by a landslide.

"I don't feel like taking off my shirt right now."

He frowns, but jokes, "That is a crime."

"You have enough for the both of us," she says. "And it's depressing."

"Don't cry," he says.

"Over you?" she says back, scoffing. "Why should I?"

He makes a face. "Ouch. That kind of hurts."

"Don't _cry_."

He smiles at her, though she notices that his eyes linger on her legs.

"What happened to your pants?" he asks.

She folds them closer to herself, snipping back, "What happened to your briefs?"

He groans, rubbing his forehead. "You mean _Reeva's_ favorite briefs," he says, a hint of exasperation behind his words. "I changed out of them."

She smiles a little. "Reeva would be so upset if she knew."

He squints at her. "Can we _not_ talk about her?"

"Fine," she says. "Then what do you wanna talk about?"

He reaches over to grab his phone off his bedside table, the clock lighting up on the front. He sighs.

"Something to help me fall asleep," he says. "I need to get up in a few hours."

She looks at him disbelievingly. "You need your rest."

"Three hours is a lot of rest."

"Not even."

"For me it is."

"Not if you're healing it isn't."

He glances to her. "Your nagging is really annoying, Catnip."

"I'm annoying?" she scowls. "And you're not?"

He chuckles some. "Sorry. Nobody calls me out on what I do, usually."

Katniss shifts and copies his position, lying across the bed. She makes sure her shirt doesn't rise up, keeping it down to almost her knees.

"Somebody has to, I guess," she says, bending her legs, not letting them hang off the end of the bed.

He makes a noise and grabs a pillow for himself. He hands her one, too, though she's not sure if she should stay. But she's surprisingly warm, and the pillow is nice and cool.

"I'm turning out the light, okay?" he says, pushing himself on his elbow and reaching over. Katniss almost tells him no, and that she's going to leave.

She ends up staying, curled up with her head on the pillow, generous distance between them. But she doesn't feel anxious or lustful or restless. Even with both of them being vulnerable without decent clothes - listening to their breathing is calming in a way that she hasn't felt in a while. She feels peaceful here.

* * *

Gale wakes up to white light seeping through his blinds. His skin prickles with the chill of daytime, and when he shifts, he remembers he never pulled any covers over him.

He blinks and rubs at his eyes, opening them to see Katniss sleeping in front of him, curled up in a ball with her head buried in his pillow. He watches her for a while, memorizing how her hair falls and what her face looks like, one arm hidden under the pillow with the other laid out in front of her, her mouth slightly open, and her possibly drooling again. But he doesn't mind, because he's not sure when he'll ever see her like this again.

He turns away from her after a moment, sighing at the window. He grabs his phone to see how much he overslept, making an involuntary noise when he reads nine-fifteen. He hasn't slept in this late since _ever._

Katniss shifts at his movements, but she doesn't wake up. Gale looks at her, and thinks she'd be proud of herself for keeping him in bed for so long.

He gets up as gently as he can, doing his best not to disturb her, and heads to the bathroom to take a shower.

* * *

It's a Sunday, though Gale wants to go to his office and check up on everything. Business doesn't wait. He tells Katniss that Johanna has the day off, if she didn't want to go with him. Gale knows that if he wasn't looking over her, he'd easily trust Johanna to do the job.

Gale ends up dropping Katniss off Downtown, Johanna sitting on a nearby bench. She skips over when she sees them, giving a sly smile and standing by the open door. "I didn't think you were telling me the truth when you told me to come meet you."

Gale rolls his eyes. "Just be careful. Watch your surroundings."

"Okay, dad," Johanna smirks, taking Katniss's arm. "How can you stand living with him?"

Katniss shrugs. "I ignore him, sometimes."

Gale scoffs. "Have fun." Then he gets back in the cab.

"What? No kiss goodbye?" Johanna asks, feigning surprise.

Katniss gives her a flat glare. "I never should have told you," she mutters.

Gale closes the door on both of them, and the car takes off to the Capitol.

"Touchy subject, I presume?" Johanna asks, eyebrows raised as she watches the back of the cab.

"We just don't talk about it anymore."

"But you_ have_ talked about it?"

Katniss makes a face and glances down the sidewalk. "Just once. But he was still slightly drugged."

Johanna puts a hand on her hip and gives her a look. "Does someone always have to be under some kind of influence for you two to actually talk about feelings?"

Katniss bristles. "_No._ We've talked about a lot of things."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," Katniss blusters, angry. "Now can we go do something?"

Johanna puts her hands in the pockets of her jacket, partly amused. She glances around. "Well, you lead the way. I'm only here because I had nothing better to do."

Katniss sighs. She looks up the block and she sees restaurants. She looks the other way and sees shops and shops.

"Want lunch?" she asks eventually, coming up with nothing else.

"You paying?"

"For _myself._"

Johanna wrinkles her nose. "I guess I can deal with that." She laughs at Katniss's face.

* * *

There's a small pile gathered for Gale to go over once he gets to his office. Most are contracts, which are his least favorite, and he knows he won't be able to finish this in one afternoon. Miranda does steal some time from him, asking him about his trip and his hospital visit. She is very dramatic in her concern.

"I heard you were in Intensive Care and I really thought about visiting you! Or send you a sprawling gift, because I absolutely adore those..."

It takes him a few hours before he's done signing off on the papers that he needs to finish. In the few days he's been absent, he's forgotten how much he hates reading these things.

He hears a knock at his door as he's finishing up, and is surprised to find Anton walk in.

"Got a minute?" he asks.

"Sure. I'm done for the day," Gale says, putting his hands behind his head. "What's wrong?"

He comes around to sit in the chair across from Gale. "Just wondering about Reeva. She a devil in disguise?"

Gale breathes a laugh. "Seems like it. I found a camera in my apartment."

"_What_?" Anton gives him a brief, shocked look, until he starts to smile. "Was it in your room?"

"No," Gale says, almost laughing. "Living room."

Anton frowns. "Damn. I mean, I knew she was a little...obsessive, but I didn't think she'd go so far as to bug your house."

Gale rubs at his jaw. "Yeah, me either. At least, I hoped she wouldn't do something like that. But she's unpredictable, even now."

"Jack's going to be so disappointed," Anton says after a while, tapping the carpet with his heel. "He really wanted her to not be a part of it."

Gale shrugs. "Shit happens. He'll find someone hotter to dog."

Anton laughs. "For Jack's sake, I hope so."

"What about you?" Gale asks. "I thought you liked her, too."

Anton shakes his head. "Not as much as Jack. I think all of Johanna's talking changed my mind. She's got some good theories, you know."

Gale rolls his eyes. "I'm sure."

"I'm tellin' ya, man, some of the things she comes up with seem genius."

Gale's brow twitches. "Like what?"

"Like..." Anton starts, thinking. "One time, she thought Reeva was a total bitch? And she is. Case and point."

"Genius."

"Yeah," Anton grins.

Gale gives him a knowing look. "It's just 'cause you like her."

"All of us do," he says. "But she can be smart sometimes."

"Sometimes."

Anton looks at his desk, and he slowly loses his light demeanor, as if he's contemplating deeply about something. "Listen though, Gale," Anton starts to say. "Paylor told me earlier that there's been a noticeable increase in complaints and call-ins to the authorities about disturbances or mischief. It's slight, but we've never had so many calls in such a short amount of time. I wasn't going to tell you - "

"You weren't going to tell me?" Gale asks.

Anton sighs. "I didn't want to give you more things to worry about. What with you and your healing, Katniss and now Reeva, and all the work you have to do - "

"I know what stress is, Anton. I would appreciate it if I was told about things like this."

"Yeah, yeah," Anton says, seemingly irritated. "If it makes you feel any better, she told me yesterday. It's not like you could have done anything."

Gale rubs his face. "Think it's because of the brainwashing on Thursday?"

He shrugs. "That's the only think I can think of. Why else would people suddenly start acting up? Some people were effected more than others. Makes sense."

"Maybe it fueled their rebellious sides," Gale mutters. He glances at his watch. "I guess I should go check on Katniss."

"Where is she, anyway?" Anton asks, grinning. "Can't believe you let her out of your sight."

"You need to stop hanging out with Johanna so much," Gale says. "They're doing things, today. No idea what, but they're downtown somewhere."

"That's dangerous."

Gale shakes his head. "You're telling me. Wanna come?"

Anton scratches the back of his head. "I'd like to, but I probably shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I've still got some things to finish..." he trails, hesitates, then continues. "And if I'm honest, I think I don't need to see Johanna."

Gale quirks his face. "This is a first."

Anton laughs. "Yeah. Well. There's playing hard to get and then there's disinterest. She's given me enough evidence of disinterest. I'd rather get over it sooner than later."

"C'mon, Anton," Gale starts. "Give her some time..."

"A year's pretty long, huh?" Anton says, glancing to the floor. "Don't give me the speech that true love is worth waiting for. You and I are both long past that phase."

"I wasn't," he says back. "But sometimes you have to sacrifice more than just time."

Anton grits his teeth together and moves his jaw around. He half-shrugs. "And sometimes there's not enough to sacrifice. I told you, she's not interested. And I don't want to prolong something that won't exist." He stands up and swings out his arms, turning lazily to the door. "I think I can be a best friend," he says, giving a soft laugh. "Tell Katniss I said hi, okay?"

Gale watches as he leaves.

* * *

Gale gets out of the taxi thirty minutes later, ending up on the sidewalk near a few restaurants. He puts his hands in his pockets, deciding to walk around before calling. The air is dry and cold, the sky overcast and the light a soft, white gray.

He trudges down the cobblestones, glancing around to the unused patios of diners, the clear windows showing people eating a late lunch, a cafe with a few people outside, drinking coffee with toboggans and scarves. He finds it strange how such a friendly atmosphere could start to sour. He finds it somewhat hard to believe that someone took him down, and perhaps tried to murder him. The light of day gives off such a yielding impression.

He gets to the shopping district before he pulls out his phone, watching the mannequins pass by. He types in Katniss's number, looking up, only to see her and Johanna through one of the windows. Johanna is grabbing all kinds of winter wear and shoves it on Katniss, while Katniss tries her best to shove all the clothing off her. One of the workers looks like they're a bit frustrated, glaring at the both of them as they make a mess of clothes on the floor.

Gale pauses before hitting the call button on his phone, seeing them both laugh, Katniss going behind Johanna with a scarf and acting like she's going to strangle her. Johanna throws the mittens she's holding into Katniss's face. It's then that the employee interrupts them, saying a few words, then walking away. Johanna gives the employee the finger when her back's turned, and Katniss goes behind a rack, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

Gale returns to the menu on his phone, and he puts it back into his pocket. He continues down the sidewalk.

* * *

When Johanna's phone rings, Katniss is surprised to find that it's nearing five thirty. She didn't think that walking around downtown and looking at clothes would eat the time away so quickly.

She pulls out her own phone, though there aren't any missed calls. She absently wonders why Gale hadn't called her.

"Alright, Jack. We'll head that way," Johanna says. "I'm with Katniss right now. We're not that far."

At the mention of her name, Katniss hears Jack yell something through the phone and Johanna holds it away from her ear, rolling her eyes.

"Jack says he's excited to see you," Johanna smiles, falsely sweet, her voice matching. Then she hangs up and puts it back in her pocket.

Katniss ignores her tone. "Where're we going?"

"Eddie's. Where else?" she says. "And now we can show off our new threads. I'm glad we found you something that was different from _jeans."_

Katniss distastefully looks down at her black leggings, pulling at them with her hand. "They're kind of comfortable, I _guess._"

"Trust me," Johanna says. "They're much better than jeans. Nice insulation."

Katniss looks at her attire. "I like the boots."

"Aren't they the _best_?"

"They're really comfy," she says, bouncing a little in them, feeling the plush cushion of the sheep hair. "And warm." Katniss looks to Johanna. "I didn't think you liked shopping."

Johanna shrugs. "There's not much to do here besides my job. These shops kind of grow on you after a while."

They pass a few of them, and Katniss thinks on that. "They're alright, I guess. It was kind of fun."

She sighs. "When have you ever shopped and not bartered? Oh, that's right, _never."_

Katniss makes a face. "Some of those prices were outrageous. I had to try to bring them down."

"By asking to trade in your shirt for five less dollars on the new shirt?"

Katniss gives her a flat look. "Yeah. It was a good shirt!"

She laughs as they walk through the door to the bar. "It was kinda funny watching that happen. The look on the clerk's face..."

Katniss glares. "Am I the only one who didn't think it was strange?"

Johanna raises her brow at her. "Um, yeah."

"Katniss!"

They look up to see Jack waving them over to his table. Katniss can't help but notice it as the same table the last time they came. She gives him a smile as they take a seat.

"Hey, Jack."

"Have you always been the first one to show up?" Johanna asks. "Or have I just noticed?"

"I can't help if I'm excited to get off work," Jack grins. He turns to Katniss. "And to be around my favorite people."

"Aw, shucks," Johanna says, punching him in his arm. "So when does brainless get here?"

Jack frowns. "Brainless?"

"Reeva," Katniss clarifies.

"That's not very nice, girls," Jack says, scolding, though both ignore him.

"I heard you guys were gonna...get information from her?" Katniss asks.

"Nah, Gale's doing that. And it's gonna be more like _pumping_ the information," Johanna grins.

Jack sighs. "It _is_ Sunday."

Katniss fidgets. "Then why doesn't he just take her home?"

"Since Gale's hurt, we figured we'd let him work his magic on her somewhere public. Then ambush," Jack says, a little less enthused. "I've always wanted to put her in handcuffs, but not like this."

Johanna rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. "Jack, stop trying to make me throw up."

"If I don't, will you leave?"

Johanna sneers at him. "I'll get a drink," she snaps at him, standing to go to the bar. "Want anything, Katniss?"

"Oh," she says, turning to glance at her. "Uh, can I get whatever Bolts gets all the time?"

"Sure thing."

"I'll have one, too," Bolts says, taking a seat besides Katniss. "Hey, Katniss."

"Hi Bolts," she says back brightly. "How've you been?"

"Same, same," he says with his scratchy voice. "Joy would like to meet you sometime. I told her about you, being down here. If you have any time after all this."

She smiles at him. "I'd love to meet her. You should bring her to Eddie's."

"She doesn't much care for bars," he says, laughing. "I've tried."

Johanna makes her way over and places their drinks in front of them. Bolts grins at how they're the same.

"Know that this doesn't make me your waitress," Johanna tells them, fetching her own drink. Bolts nudges Katniss.

"Looks like I started you on something."

"Yeah," Katniss agrees. "It actually tastes good."

Anton walks up a second later, hesitates, then takes a seat next to Bolts. Katniss can't help but notices Johanna glancing at the empty seat beside her. "Hey, Bolts."

"Anton," he says. "Hard day at work?"

He rubs at his neck. "A lot to do," he says in answer. "Had to visit the manufacturing facility. It was a mess."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Doing actual work now?" Johanna asks him, feigning surprise.

"Some of us don't _shop_ for a living," he says back, giving her a glare.

She sits up straighter at his tone, giving him a look. "_Excuse_ me. It's my day off."

"Lucky you," he says.

She glares back. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

He sighs, looking away from her. "Rough day. Sorry."

Katniss catches Johanna's eye and smiles. Johanna scoffs at her, taking a drink.

"So, where's Gale?" Anton asks, looking to Katniss. "Last I talked to him, he was going to go find you downtown."

Katniss frowns. "He never called."

Jack shrugs. "Maybe he decided to stay at work. You know Gale. Loves that desk work."

Johanna laughs.

"Maybe he went to his apartment to put his medicine on. And his anesthetic," Katniss thinks aloud.

"Gale, taking care of himself?" Bolts says light-heartedly.

"He actually wants to be careful, this time," Johanna mumbles.

"Shocking," Anton says.

"And here she is," Jack says, halfway between jubilant and nervous. Everyone looks up to see Reeva walking through the door, slowly shedding her coat and placing it on the rack to the side wall. She's surprisingly not wearing something red, but a light brown, fur dress that makes Jack whistle unashamedly. Anton examines her closely, Johanna does her trademark grimace of disgust, and Bolts drinks his drink like nothing is happening.

Katniss looks at Reeva's dress and face and body, and for the first time, feels jealousy. It's uninhibited, not hidden by annoyance, anger, or nervousness. She wishes she bought a dress, too, just to match Reeva, even if Reeva can easily pull a dress off much better than she can. But she_ is_ glad that she left her hair down. It was too cold for wearing a braid walking down the sidewalks of downtown, anyway.

She looks over to Johanna, and Johanna gives her a mutual glance of hatred.

When Reeva spots them, she walks over, though she slows down when she notices Gale's absence.

"Hi, everyone," she greets nicely, smiling at all of them as they greet her back. Everyone shifts, though it's a very different shifting from the other night in the bar. She walks around to the open seats by Anton and Johanna. Johanna's glare repels her from sitting in the seat beside her, and she sits by Anton. Anton gives her a lazy, charming smile.

"How you doin', Reeva? I haven't seen you in a while," Anton says, his earlier bad mood all but disappearing.

"Oh, fine," she says back. "I've not been up to much, just working and being a secretary."

Anton smiles, and Katniss thinks, suddenly, that he's a good actor. "Me, too."

"Is that a new dress?" Jack asks from across the table. Reeva gives him a pretty smile.

"Why, yes it is. How sweet of you to notice, Jack."

"Hard not to," he says, and winks. Johanna gags beside him. Katniss puts a hand up to her mouth to keep her laugh in.

Anton surprises all of them and gives Johanna a dirty look. "Could you grow up for once?"

Johanna almost gags on her drink seriously, this time, and she stares at him like she's been insulted. "What?"

"You know," he says, as if he's explaining a hard concept. "Being an adult. It's hard at first, I know, but I think you have enough potential to be one."

Jack whistles while Bolts looks as if he's sighing with his eyes.

Johanna looks as if she's going to stand up, but she remains sitting. "Go fuck yourself, Anton."

Anton smiles at her, which makes Johanna's face steam an angry red. Then he looks to Reeva, who is trying her best not to look uncomfortable.

"Don't listen to her, Reeva," he says, deceptively gentle. "You're one of us. Johanna can just be a bitch, sometimes."

Katniss can swear she hears Johanna growl across the table. Reeva gives Anton a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Anton. I really appreciate that. But you don't have to feel obligated to be so nice to me..."

Katniss stares at Reeva, bewildered. She's never heard Reeva sound _modest_ before.

"Obligated?" Jack speaks up, as if on cue. "None of us feel any obligation. Well, except..." he darts his eyes to Johanna, and she looks positively livid. "But I want you to feel a part of the group. I know we've been divided for a while..."

Katniss looks between Anton and Jack, before Bolts speaks up. "I have the same sentiments, Reeva. Gale really likes you, and we've come to really like you, too."

Katniss is pretty sure this is a scam. Though Johanna's anger points otherwise. She tries to catch Johanna's eyes, giving her a confused look. After a moment, Johanna, even through her ultimate frustration, is able to give her a subtle, forced, wink. Katniss hurriedly looks away from her, and looks between all the men. Their tones are smothering with appeasement and a complacent warmth, and Katniss can't tell if Reeva is faking her emotions as well. Her eyes are wide and they glow like firecrackers, her smile adoring each of them, though she skips over both Johanna and Katniss. Not that it really bothers her - she can't make herself give Reeva a sweet smile. But it's still irritating.

"Thank you," she says, blushing a light red. Katniss squints and wonders how that could possibly be staged. "That all means a lot. I don't really have many friends, here."

_I wonder why_, Katniss thinks sarcastically. She involuntarily makes a face. Reeva sees it, and her smile slightly falters.

"I meant to go shopping with you, Katniss," she starts after a quiet moment, glancing at her clothes. "But you already went."

Katniss opens her mouth, but she isn't sure what to say. "Oh, yeah, I went today, actually."

Reeva frowns. "I wish I went. I could have helped you pick out much more flattering clothes. Not that I don't like them," she says, as an afterthought. "But they're just not up to quality standards, if you know what I mean."

Katniss feels her face heat up at the same time that she sees Johanna's jaw unhinge a little.

"I..." says Katniss.

"You fucking _cunt_," growls Johanna.

Bolts sighs and stands up, silently going to the bar. Anton and Jack give each other a look. Anton shakes his head, but Jack grins widely.

"Oh, girls, please, all of you are gorgeous," Jack starts lightly, fading in an amused laugh. It dwindles as Johanna and Katniss both look at him, with Reeva pulling off something doe-eyed and innocent.

"Leave," hisses Johanna. Jack groans, but complies.

"Sorry, Reeva. She'll cool down, I promise," he says, placating. Reeva gives him a small smile.

"It's okay. I think we need some girl talk, anyway."

She says it so calmly. Katniss narrows her eyes.

Johanna's eyes fall on Anton. "I wasn't just talking to Jack."

"Johanna..."

"Anton..."

He grunts. "Play nicely." Then he gets up with Jack, and they disappear into the background.

Reeva's eyes watch them as they leave. Her soft eyes vanish as she looks back to Katniss and Johanna.

"There was always a reason I could never keep any girl friends," Reeva starts conversationally, hand going to her curled hair. "Girls get jealous so easy, and I always come off like a high and mighty snob."

"Really?" Johanna asks with incredible sarcasm. "Is _jealousy_ what that's called? Are you sure?"

Reeva moves her hair over her shoulder like a curtain. "I don't know what else you want to call it, Johanna," she says. "And I know why. You always hang out with your little group of boys - almost as if you're compensating for whatever dark little past you had. They accept you, as ugly as you are, and you act high and mighty because you don't know how to act like a girl. I have eyes. I see the way you look at me."

Johanna looks as if she's choking on her own spit. Katniss speaks up before Johanna gets a handle on herself. "And how does she look at you?" she asks Reeva, startled at how tense her voice is. "All I can see is disgust."

Reeva's lips spread over her teeth. "Jealousy has many faces. Like you, Katniss," she starts. "You're insecure. You're a teenager that never grew up -_ please._ Don't look so surprised. I can read you like a book."

Katniss keeps her mouth from parting. "Like a book?"

Reeva shrugs. "Sure. A lot of girls are like you. Can't dress themselves properly, are too scared to wear makeup, leave their hair down in a haphazard mess because they think it makes them look pretty," she says matter-of-factly. "And because I'm honest about it, girls hate me for it. But they never give me a chance to help them."

Katniss can swear she hears her teeth cracking. Johanna's hand might break her glass.

"Did you ever consider that I don't care what I look like?" Katniss grits out.

Reeva frowns briefly, before smiling and then laughing. "Of course you do. Hanging around Gale so long would definitely fuel your want to be pretty. You see me with him, and you can't help but want to have a man look at you like Gale looks at me," she says it so simply, Katniss can't contain herself.

She pulls her hair behind her shoulder and points to her neck. "Who do you think gave me these, Reeva?" Katniss presses through her teeth. It doesn't take long for Reeva's eyes to narrow at the sight.

"Don't try to play games with me, Mockingjay."

"_I'm not_."

"Oh," Johanna laughs, coming back to life. "I can assure you, she isn't." She leans over the table, her voice low and knowing. "We _all_ know Gale bites hard."

Reeva's mouth twitches, looking between them. "You both forget," she says after a moment of recomposing. "He's with me."

Katniss crosses her arms, giving her a quasi-pleased look. "I don't know...I live with him. And how many times has he gone to see you?"

Reeva's cheeks turn a light pink in anger. "Don't act like you've done anything together. Those marks on your neck don't prove anything."

Katniss jerks her head. "How would you know? It's not like you can _see_ in his apartment when we're alone."

Reeva opens her mouth and looks as if she's ready to say something they've been waiting on, but she holds back. She gives a fake laugh and smooths her hands over her dress.

"If only I could," she drawls. "But Gale doesn't stray. He's very loyal."

Katniss feels herself fall back into her chair. She puts her hand up to her hair, much like Reeva. "He's very good with his hands, too," she says, and she looks up to the ceiling as if she's remembering. She sighs. "Oh, but you know that, right? He knows all the right spots, doesn't he?"

Reeva's light pink cheeks evolve a bit deeper. "You are such a liar."

"If I'm such a liar and he's so loyal," Katniss says, giving her a hard look. "Ask him."

Reeva smiles like a cat. "Oh, please. You'd never do that to your boy toy back home."

Katniss doesn't let her words phase her. She gives her a small smile of her own. "Whatever you want to believe, Reeva. Besides, we all know you're jealous of mine and Gale's...friendship. What will you have when you inevitably break up? A memory?"

Reeva's lip curls. "If any of that's true, it just makes you a little whore."

Katniss raises a brow, and she thinks she can...if she plans it right, and it's true... "I'm sure you can come up with a better name than that, can't you Maera?"

Something in Reeva snaps and all her composure is lost. Her face goes as red as her hair, and she shoots up to stand, her chair clattering behind her. She moves so fast, Katniss almost doesn't see her until she scratches her face with her long, lion nails.

"You little piece of shit," Reeva whispers darkly. "You know how long I've wanted to kill you?"

Katniss stands up, not truly noticing the blood raining from her cheek. She stares up into Reeva's eyes, feeling her heart thrum in her chest, a strange aura of death surrounding her. And her body does what it's learned to do all her life.

She punches Reeva, and she hears the clean snap of her nose. Reeva shrieks and stumbles, lashing out and finding Katniss's neck. Her nails dig into her skin and Katniss knees her in the stomach. They both fall to the ground, and Katniss pulls at Reeva's hair and punches wildly, Reeva elbows her in the chest and jaw. They roll into the table, but Katniss doesn't feel them moving. She tries to ram Reeva's head into the table leg while Reeva still tries to suffocate her with her hands around her windpipe. When Katniss rolls on top, she's able to see the look in Reeva - that glint that was in all those Career kids eyes when they thought they were going to be able to kill her. If she wasn't blinded by her rage, she might feel fear.

And then she feels herself being pulled away. She jerks against them locking her arms behind her back. They pull her into a body.

"No," she jeers. "No, I'm not done yet."

"Easy, Catnip," says a smiling voice in her ear. Her anger dissipates in a second, and she stops resisting.

"Gale."

"You put on quite the show for everyone."

She realizes she's breathing heavy. She shakes her head and closes her eyes, opening them to see the few patrons who were there at the beginning staring at them, all out of their seats, not knowing what to do. But they don't bother her. She swallows.

"You saw everything?"

"And heard everything."

She hadn't thought about him showing up to listen. Her face heats up.

"Oh."

"Don't worry," he laughs gently. "We all enjoyed it. Especially Jack."

"I don't...I didn't mean for..." she sighs. She sees Paylor and two men wearing uniforms binding Reeva with cuffs, doing their best against her still fighting movements. Jacks off to the side, looking surprisingly happy, though he's still looking at something on his phone. Johanna's grinning over his shoulder at whatever is on there - which are probably pictures, Katniss thinks embarrassed. And Anton's laughing at both of them. Bolts is with Paylor, talking with her and looking far less amused at the situation at hand.

"Even if you didn't mean for it, it worked. Now all we have to do is get her to tell us everything. I think I can do that," he says, loosening his grip on her. "Can I let you go, or are you gonna go crazy on me?"

She smiles weakly. "I'm fine." Once he lets go of her, she turns around to him. "Are they going to be mad about the table?"

Gale rolls his eyes at her, though he smiles. "No. The show balanced out the cost for any damages, trust me. This place hasn't seen a catfight in years."

Katniss looks awkwardly at their mess. She makes eye contact with Reeva, and she's pleased that her fur dress has bald patches, though she's not sure how it happened. And her perfectly curled hair is tangled and wild, though Katniss is sure her's is probably the same way.

The two officers and Paylor lead her out of the bar, and she glares at Katniss the whole way. Katniss looks at her nose, and she realizes that it isn't broken. But she was sure it...

Reeva gives her a mean smile, as if she can read her mind. "It takes more than a broken nose to ruin perfection, Katniss," she says as she passes by. Her eyes dart to Gale, and then they dart away, as if she can't look at him. Gale watches her go, frowning some.

"So you can make her talk?" she asks him quietly as Reeva leaves.

"Hopefully," he says, letting doubt enter his voice. He looks at her. "You know that time in the hospital where she stayed over?"

How could she forget? "Yeah, why?"

"Well," he says. "I told her that I loved her. And I felt like if I told her, she'd believe it." He looks back to the door. "It's the only thing I've got going for me."

"You did?" she can't help saying.

"I needed her absolute trust," he says back. At her face, he forces a chuckle. "It wasn't like when I said it to you. Lying is so much easier than truth, you know."

She blinks at the statement. "Yeah...I know."

His eyes stray to her bloodied cheek. He reaches out to touch it, and she involuntarily twitches back.

"Is it still bleeding?" she asks.

"A little. It's deep. She got you pretty good there," he says. "I'm sure if we put some of that salve on it, it'll heal overnight." He looks over her, and she narrows her eyes.

"What, do I have more cuts?"

"Don't think so," he says, and if he notices her fidgeting, he doesn't do anything about it. "You've got a bruise on your jaw, though. I don't think you have a concussion, but you banged your head hard into that table."

She thinks about it. "I did?"

He smiles crookedly. "Yeah, you did."

She grimaces. "Is my hair bad?"

He gives her a dry look. "Did you really take her words to heart?"

"Well, no...but hers looked bad."

He looks at her a moment, then starts laughing. "Hers looked bad. Yours looks like...uh..."

She puts her hands on her hips. "Like what? You can say it looks like things are living in it, I don't care."

"It doesn't look like that," he says. He clears his throat. "It uh, it looks fine."

She gives him an unconvinced tilt of her head. "Uh huh."

He suddenly reaches out and rubs at her head, effectively making the strands fly. "What - the hell, Gale!"

"Much better," he says, grinning. She glares at him, though it's half-hearted.

"Yo, Katniss!" Jack calls not a second later, grinning over to her. "You've gotta check out your replay."

She slowly makes her way over, looking at all their three faces with high suspicion. "Replay?"

"Yeah! I recorded it! Your talk and everything!"

Katniss stares at the phone in his hand. She looks over her shoulder to Gale.

"You didn't tell me it records, _too_."

Gale gives a sheepish shrug. "I never use it."

Johanna pulls her arm when she takes too long, and she wraps an arm around her shoulder. "I'm so proud of you," she says, eyes bright. "Not only did you smart talk her, you even took the time out to rip her dress to shreds."

Katniss isn't sure if she's supposed to smile. Her face ends up coming out confused. "I don't even remember pulling at her dress."

"It was beautiful," Johanna gushes. "Did you hear me rooting for you in the background?"

Katniss frowns. "No..."

"I was," Johanna says spiritedly. Anton nods the affirmative. "And keep the battle scars," she adds, pointing to her cheek.

"Wanna marry me, Katniss?" Jack says abruptly, watching the playback of the recording, not for the first time. "Forget Reeva. I've always had a thing for you. Especially seeing your right hook."

Katniss blushes at the bluntness of his words. She tries to laugh, uncertain, though she knows he's joking. "I'll have to think about it," she ends up saying.

Jack laughs at that, nudging her.

Katniss looks over their shoulders to Gale, who doesn't join them. He gives her a shrug when he catches her eye, half-smiling, gesturing her to pay attention to the three surrounding her. Then he turns to Bolts, who's come to stand beside him, and they start into an immediate conversation. She finds herself wanting him to watch her replay, to see how he reacted.

Once all the hype dies, and Katniss has watched herself right Reeva at least three times on Jack's phone, they all leave together. Bolts and Jack call cabs and leave first, and when Johanna says she's going to walk home, both Gale and Anton reject the idea.

She sighs. "I live maybe three blocks away. I'll be fine."

Anton gives her a look. "What if one of Reeva's little girl friends anticipated this and is out on the prowl? I don't want to see you bleeding out on the pavement."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "You know, you were pretty quick to pick on me in there," she says, tilting her head at him. "What gives? I mean, I know I was the one that hated her the most, but you were _actually_ kind of mean." She says it as if she's almost proud of him.

Anton shrugs. "You get mad so easily. I thought if I got you mad enough, you'd make Reeva mad, and we could see where it went from there." He looks over to Katniss, grinning at her. "Didn't think it was gonna be you rolling around with her, though."

"Guess you shouldn't mess with me, then," she smiles back.

Johanna doesn't look like she believes him. But she relents. "Alright, I'll get a cab," she says, pulling out her phone. "And pay fifty whole cents to get home."

Anton sighs, as if he's suddenly very tired. "It's alright, I already called one. You can ride with me, and I'll cover your fare."

Johanna ends her call, smirking. "A cheap apology, but I'll take it."

Gale grins at Anton, and Anton grimaces at him.

Gale and Katniss don't have to wait long for their taxi, and they're at his apartment door in minutes.

"What took you so long to get there, anyway?" Katniss says, once they're in the living room. She takes off her jacket. "You never called me, so I didn't know."

"I figured you wanted to enjoy your girl time, and I knew if you were with Johanna, I'd meet up with you somewhere," he says, placing their jackets in the entry closet. "I had to drop by here and put medicine on. And then I had to - "

"I knew it," she says, triumphantly. "I had faith that you'd put some on."

He's amused by her reaction. "Well, I did think I was going to have to deal with Reeva. I really didn't need the distraction of my ribs."

"Were you really going to...pump information out of her?" she says, falling onto the couch.

He laughs slightly at that. "Is that what Johanna said?"

"How'd you know?"

"Well, besides the fact that you spent the whole day together..."

"Right," she mumbles. "Well, still, were you?"

"I swear the strangest things interest you," he says, taking the seat beside her. "But...yeah," he admits. "I was."

She looks at him. "Would it have worked?"

He stares at the black screen of the t.v. "I've got a good track record," is all he says. "You hungry?"

It's amazing how it's only eight o'clock. It feels so much later.

"Actually...not really. I'm tired."

Gale grins. "All that fighting wear you out?"

"Plus shopping," she says. "I never realized how much work it was."

"Oh, yeah," he states, glancing down at her clothes. "Nice tights."

"I guess."

"You don't like them?"

"No, they're alright."

He sighs. "Why did you buy them?"

"I wanted to try something different."

At this, he smiles. He glances at her, and his stare lingers on her cheek. "You should clean that up before it gets infected."

She sighs, but obediently goes to the bathroom. It takes her a few minutes to wash out the cuts and to get rid of the drying, sticky blood on her cheek. But once it's all clear, she has to admit, Reeva really knew how to leave her mark.

The salve is off to her side, and she opens the container, putting a dab on her finger. She doesn't think about any pain she'll feel when she goes to rub it on, but when she does, she makes a noise and grips the edge of the counter. She starts to breathe heavy at the burning sensation, her left eye stinging with sudden tears. She hurriedly turns on the sink to wash her face again, because it's so close to unbearable that she's not sure if she can take it. Johanna was right. She'll just have battle scars.

Gale appears in the doorway after she wipes the medicine off her face with a towel. He's eating a sandwich, looking at her worriedly. She glares at him.

"I didn't know it was going to hurt so bad."

"If it doesn't hurt, then it's not working," he says, putting his sandwich onto the vanity, coming over to her and grabbing some salve. "The first time is always the worst."

She looks at his hand suspiciously. "I didn't know it was going to be as bad as when I put it on your ribs."

"Open wounds like yours," he says, getting closer to her, salve on his fingers. She backs up. "It's gonna be a bitch. Catnip, I have to put this on you. You obviously can't."

She grimaces. "I don't want any."

He grunts and grips at her chin. She jerks.

"C'mon," he says. "I've heard that I'm good with my hands."

She doesn't have it in her to smile at the joke. "Gale, no - "

"I'm just returning the favor, Katniss," he says. "After a minute, the burning will die down. It'll be bearable."

His grip is firm, and she doesn't have the energy to push away. She sighs and closes her eyes.

"Fine."

He smiles, but she can't see it. He does a quick swipe across one cut, and she almost thrashes, but he's got enough resistance against her to make sure she doesn't move much.

He goes to swipe at the other two, and she makes a strangled noise. He shushes her like she's a child.

"I just have to rub it in..."

She incoherently growls something, the other side of her face pushed into the wall behind her. Her back's against the wall, and she thinks that's a good thing - it holds her up without her having to think.

She can't feel his hand through the burning, but his words ring true from before. After what seems like a year of twitching and jerking, the pain dulls into a loud throb, and her mind is able to become unclouded enough for her to remember where she is. She feels sweat roll down her neck.

"Ugh," she says.

"Getting better?" he says back lightly. "Almost done."

"When're you going to talk to Reeva?" she grits out.

"Tomorrow morning. Before she has much time to escape," he says. "Why?"

"I wanna watch her tell you everything," she says, her lip curling up of its own accord.

He chuckles. "I think you're more mad at the medicine than at Reeva right now."

She makes a guttural noise, but she feels her energy draining every second. She sighs and slumps on the wall.

He backs away from her a little, and his salve hand reaches to the towel as he wipes it off. He examines her, his other hand still under her chin.

"Better," he appraises. "Should be gone in two or three days."

"Fast," she mumbles, eyes closed, face falling into his hand.

"Yeah. Strong stuff," he says quietly.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed," she says after a moment, trying her best to open her eyes. She's surprised to still find him so close.

"Good idea," he answers, his voice rough. Then he falls forward enough to kiss her.

She's suddenly very awake, her eyes opening a fraction wider. His face is a blur. But it's over very quick - a brief, chaste kiss, and Katniss doesn't know if she had the mind to push at him with her hands or to kiss him back.

He looks pained as he backs away. He can't look her in the eye. "Sorry," he says. "I didn't - I shouldn't have..." he trails, looking terribly frustrated with himself.

She almost tells him it's okay. And she forces herself not to move toward him, because if she does, and if she's honest, she might kiss him, too.

"It's..." is all she manages.

He smiles sharply at the floor, rolling his eyes. "You need to go to bed," he says. "You're right. You need sleep." He backs out of the bathroom, grabbing his forgotten sandwich.

"Goodnight, Katniss," he says. But she doesn't think she'll get any sleep tonight.

* * *

a/n; anon review replies

everyturnasurprise: I can't help teasing. It's too fun ;) I hope you liked this chapter. Catfight? Haha

meow: :D hope you liked it

Nicole: :)

Jamie: a dirty Katniss is a good thing, yeah? ;) hahaha, yeah, total cockblock. But Katniss got her back. :) thanks about the reviews! It is very exciting.

mae: young readers beware! ;) I felt the need to write something for the gale/kat cravings. But they're attraction is gonna be harder and harder to hide. And you're so right? having a life? psh. hope you liked Reeva getting beat up, haha.


	20. compulsion

a/n; who wants to read my apologies right now? nobody. see below: apology/excuses. otherwise, you reviewers make me want to omnom you. HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!

changed the rating back to T again because i'm paranoid about this purge thing going on. technically, it's still M, but whatever. if it gets deleted, i'll post it on another website, and i'll put it on my profile.

chapter twenty - compulsion

* * *

Katniss wakes up to the sound of the sink running in the bathroom. The light from underneath the door makes the room seem darker than it is.

She groans, her face feeling itchy. She goes to scratch it, but immediately stops at the burning her nails leave against her. She pushes her face into the coolness of the other side of her pillow. It takes her a moment to realize that she's bleeding all over it.

She sits up and puts her hand to her wound, as if it'll keep the blood in. There's not much, but it's a steady enough flow to smear across her cheek. She sighs and rolls out of bed, going to knock on the bathroom door.

"'S open," he calls.

She walks in to see him brushing his teeth, looking over at her questioningly.

"Scratched it," she mumbles, turning on the sink nearest her door. She rinses her face off the best she can, grabbing the towel off the rack.

"I just finished with this," he says, pushing the salve container over to her. "It should be easy to put on, now."

She says, "Thanks," and reaches over to take it. She bites her lip and glances over to him. He doesn't look at her, and continues to brush his teeth. She glances to the salve, hesitates, then goes to apply it.

It isn't nearly as terrible as the night before, but it still makes her eyes water and wince. The thickness between them from the night before doesn't help.

"Are you…going to go running this morning?" she manages.

He wipes off his mouth. "Yeah."

She sighs at the pulsing in her cheek. "Can I go?"

He looks over at her, thinking. "I'll lighten the workout."

She narrows her eyes. She says, "No, I can handle it."

"Catnip, let's be serious…"

She groans. "I'll be fine."

He gives it more thought. "I'll cut down the mileage."

Katniss can't help but like the idea. She looks at him.

"Can I shoot?"

"Your bow?"

"Sure," she shrugs. "I've only been able to use it once. Besides," she smiles. "I want to show off my skills before I leave."

Gale tries to smile back, but it isn't full. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. You need to show Jack up close. He's been bugging me about it for a few years."

She suddenly feels…excited about it. And she brightens. The throbbing of her cheek isn't as consuming.

* * *

The pull of the bowstring is refreshingly resistant against her arms and shoulders as she notches the arrow. Hearing the small clicks of the wood in her ear, the pressure in her fingertips, it all makes her blood rush a little harder, her heart pump a little faster. But it's all instinctual. She never had to think about it after about a year after her father taught her. Her mind goes blank in a bout of her concentration.

Jack whistles as Katniss's arrow careens into the center of the bulls-eye.

"Now that's a thing of beauty," he praises.

Katniss rolls her eyes at him, but she smiles all the same. She puts her bow out toward him.

"You wanna try?"

He looks at her like she's grown two heads. "You kidding? Bows definitely aren't my thing."

She brings it back to her. "What is your thing, then?"

Jack grins, falling back into the grass. "Grenade launchers. Bazookas. You know, the big guns."

"Do you even get to use those things?" Katniss asks, raising a brow.

"Sometimes," he says. "I get to use them for demolition on the planes that don't work. Best part of the job."

"I'm sure," Katniss says, taking aim again. She glances around. "What should I shoot?"

"This!" Anton calls out from somewhere behind her. She hears a whir overhead, a spinning, glinting spark above her. She turns automatically, aims and shoots. The object sinks with the hit, falling to the ground yards away, her arrow through the middle of it. Jack whistles.

"Hot," he says.

"Good one," Anton says, coming up to her.

She grins. "What was that?"

"Just a metal bird. We practice with 'em." He hands her one to look at. She examines it, and the name matches. It's a miniature, silver bird, wings out horizontally and movable. She flicks one, and it twitches like a hummingbird.

"Think you can do two at once?" Anton asks, smirking challengingly.

Katniss feels her back straighten, and she gives a haughty look to match his. "Of course I can."

"Alright," he says, backing up and pulling one more bird out of his pocket. "Let's see what you can do."

He throws them both up into the air, though they fly in different directions. The first one flies off straight in front of her, and she takes it down quickly. Then she turns to find the next one, and it takes a second, and it's further away, but she closes an eye, shoots, and the bird spins down to the ground.

Anton claps a couple of times while Jack looks on in a type of awe.

"Can you maybe join our squad?" Jack asks, and Katniss can't tell if he's being serious or not.

"Show off," Johanna comes up, crossing her arms and smiling at her.

Katniss shrugs. "I try."

Johanna walks up and stands by her, taking out a small ax from her belt. It's a few inches larger than a hatchet. She doesn't take time out aiming at the target, throwing the ax with a vicious twirl. It shaves Katniss's arrow in half, the top point of it sticking in the bulls-eye.

"You've always kind of scared me with how good you are at throwing those things," Anton says, assessing her ax. Johanna puts a hand on her hip, looking at him.

"Not my fault you're a big baby."

Anton scoffs. "C'mon. We both know I can knock you out with just my hands," he says, putting his hands up and wiggling his fingers.

Katniss isn't sure if he's making any innuendo, but she risks asking. "So, you mean you can…"

Johanna rolls her eyes. "He's a black belt. Jujutsu or ninjitsu or tae-jitsu or_ something_."

Anton grins crookedly. "Close enough. Don't forget about the pressure points, too."

"How could I forget?" she asks, sarcastic.

"Pressure points?" Katniss speaks up.

Jack bounds over from his spot. "Yeah," he says enthusiastically. "I've seen him break a guy's elbow by tapping it."

Anton laughs. "I did more than tap it, but it makes it easier to do."

"He's taught me some things," Jack tells her. "It's kind of awesome. I broke a guy's knee once with three fingers."

Katniss's eyes widen. "Wow." She looks over to Johanna. "Has he taught you anything, Johanna?"

She makes a face. "No. I prefer the intimacy of a close-combat kill." She half-smiles. "You know, sharing the rage and the desperation to see who comes out on top. Exhilarating."

Katniss thinks about that – but she's not sure if she can relate. She's not sure if killing was exhilarating, but she felt adrenaline each time. The blankness of quiet thoughts, of not thinking, just like shooting the birds out of the sky.

_Just like hunting._ Kill or be killed. She's called herself a killer for a long time, but she feels no remorse for the ones that have died by her hand. If they didn't die, she would have. But it doesn't give her any self-gratification at the thought.

The woman in the Capitol, the Career in the first games, Coin. She can't make herself feel bad for killing them. Maybe her moral compass is a little off-kilter, and her mind a little messed up, but Jack and Johanna and Anton seem to embrace it in themselves, even if it's sometimes behind clashing smiles that don't match their faces. But it makes her feel better about not truly feeling much at all.

"I know," Anton emphasizes, raising his hands again. "I'm a martial artist."

Jack nudges Katniss then glances over to Anton and Johanna. "Hey, you know what I think? I think you should show how you can make Johanna blackout."

Johanna sneers. "Hell, no."

Anton crosses his arms. "You can snap someone's neck, but you can't handle me making you unconscious?"

"That stuff freaks me out," she says, hunching her shoulders. "Besides, I'm not gonna go unconscious for kicks."

Anton sighs. "Okay, how 'bout this. I _almost _make you go unconscious. Totally better than fully unconscious."

Johanna glares.

Katniss and Jack share a look. She grins. "Don't be chicken, Johanna," Katniss says, provoking. "It's just Anton."

Johanna turns her eyes to Katniss, narrowing them like bullets. "Fine," she spits out. She turns back to Anton, placing her hands on her hips in a defensive stance. "Do your worst."

Anton smiles and closes the distance between them, flexing his hands. "You are_ so_ easy to rile up."

"Shut up and get this over with."

"As you wish, dear." He smiles wider while she glares harder at him, and he places his palms on both sides of her throat, pressing his thumbs underneath her jaw. He watches her closely, and she holds up for a few seconds before her eyelids start to fall. She struggles against it, blinking rapidly. Her hands fall limply off her hips.

"Anton," she tries to growl, but it comes out as a faint slur. He slides his hands away from her slowly, and her knees give out. He catches her in his chest, laughing a bit. Johanna tries and fails to look angry, only managing to pull off looking tired.

"Aw, look, you fell for me," Anton jabs at her with a laugh.

Johanna is barely able to roll her eyes. Katniss laughs with Anton.

"Not even the mighty Johanna could last more than ten seconds," Jack says, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Katniss looks on in amusement. "How do you do that?"

Anton shrugs, pulling Johanna up with him. "Just finding the right nerves, is all. Tricked her blood pressure into lowering and _boom_. Unconscious. Or, well, almost," he corrects. "You'll be fine in a second," he tells Johanna, who's still leaning on him.

"I can't believe I let you," she grimaces. Anton shrugs.

"You liked it."

"What's going on over here?" Gale says, finally coming up to them. He grins when he sees Johanna. "What happened to you?"

Johanna growls. "Screw you."

"A lesson in pressure points," Jack says lightly. "It's always fun to watch."

"Ah," Gale says, looking at Anton knowingly. "It's always fun taking Johanna down, too."

"The best," Jack agrees.

"I hate all of you," Johanna growls again.

Katniss wants to laugh at Johanna's struggle to recover quickly. Anton keeps a supporting arm around her, his hand on her hip.

She looks over to Gale. "What were you doing over there?" she asks, gesturing to the barracks behind them.

"Talking with Paylor. I'm gonna go with her to Reeva." He comes around, standing by her, then he takes a seat. She sits down, too.

"You going soon?"

"In about half an hour," he says, shrugging. He lies down in the grass, and he looks up at her. "You have fun shooting?"

She grins, "Yeah. Jack enjoyed it."

"Hell yeah I did," he says.

"Good," he says, putting his hands behind his head. "Still as good as you used to be?"

She gives him a look. "Of course I am."

"She took out two of those birds in like, five seconds," Jack says.

"Not surprising," Gale smiles. Katniss looks away from him.

"What about you?" she says eventually. "Can you still shoot an arrow?"

He furrows his brow at her. "Uh, yeah. But I'm better with guns."

She starts to half-smile. "Then show me."

"Why?" he asks. "You're better than I am."

"So?" she says. "Doesn't matter. I've always been better than you."

He makes a face. "When'd you get so cocky?"

She laughs a little. "I don't know. When'd you start to not try to show me up?"

"Give me that," he sighs, sitting up and reaching a hand out for her bow. She gives it to him happily.

He stands up and brushes off his pants. He takes the arrow she hands to him, and she stands back, watching as he knocks the arrow back. He looks like he's concentrating, his eyebrows coming down over his eyes, making a line indent between the dip of his nose and his eye. When he releases it, it lands in the third ring of the target, and he scowls.

She gives him a close look, his face serious. She decides to tease, "I didn't know you were that bad."

"Been a while since I've used one of these," he glances at her. "Didn't think I'd hit the target at all." He holds out the bow for her to take.

She grabs it, giving him a frown. "It hasn't been that long, has it?"

He smirks at her, one of those angry ones that doesn't reach him. "Yeah, it has."

"Oh," she says, blinking at him, and watching the smirk disappear. He ends up smiling.

"Think I should practice that more, huh? Don't wanna embarrass myself if you ever want to see me shoot again."

She looks at the ground, coming to a thought. "You haven't used one since…the war, have you?"

He laughs. "No."

"Gale – "

"I never needed one, Catnip," he says, going to rub at the top of her head again. She evades him.

"Stop acting like you're fine," she says roughly. "Because you're not."

He crosses his arms. "Yeah, I am. And I like guns better. Sniping is the funnest thing in the world."

"But I don't want you to bottle up anymore," she says. "It's not _good_. I _know_. And opening up actually feels alright, sometimes."

"And I'm proud that you _are_ opening up," he says, honestly. "You hold it in like nobody I've ever met."

"Look who's talking," she says, putting her hands on her hips, giving him a hard glare. "You smile everything away, now. Remember when you never smiled, and you actually showed when you were angry?"

He sighs at her. "I was mad all the time. I didn't have the energy or the reason to hide it."

She shifts the weight on her feet. "Then why do you hide it now?"

He gazes at her for a while. "I'm not hiding anger, Katniss."

"But you're hiding…" she trails, trying to keep his stare.

He scoffs, "You know what I'm hiding."

And she does.

"Gale," she says. "I'm…I'm sorry."

He places his hands in his pockets as she looks down to his shoes.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he answers after a moment. "It's not anyone's fault, except maybe mine."

"After all this time," she says.

He asks plainly, "Why not?"

She looks up to him, and he looks back.

"Peeta…" she chokes out.

He smiles. "I know."

She glances around, rubbing at her jacket, and notices absently that nobody's around them anymore. She's not sure what to say. She tells herself not to cry.

"I need to go," he says.

She nods, detached. "Yeah." When he starts to walk away, she wakes up. "Wait! I'm supposed to go with you."

He stops and looks at her over his shoulder. "The squad's going with me. You can go back to the apartment."

"No," she says. "I have to go. It's Reeva."

"It's just going to be an interrogation," he says back, though she wonders if he has his own reason to keep her from going. But she stands her ground.

"I'm going," she says with finality. He doesn't have it in him to reject her.

"Alright," he sighs, and they both head to the barracks, where Paylor is waiting for them.

* * *

The building is not what she thinks it'd be like. It has cells with bars, rooms with only a bed, a toilet, and a sink. There's a window with bars in some of the rooms, too, giving a tasteless, mocking glimpse to the winter covered world outside.

Two guards escort Reeva from one of the cells, walking her down to the interrogation rooms. They each have a one-way window for observers, a speaker to hear the conversation on the outside, and a table and two chairs on the inside. The lighting is harsh, fluorescent, and the walls and floor are all cement. It's gloomy and uncomfortable.

Katniss stares at Reeva through the window, taking in how sallow she looks in her jail-wear. She almost looks pitiful, though she feels no pity for her. She's never been less immaculate – her hair is flat and her make-up is old. But somehow, she holds her back straight enough to make it seem as if she's supposed to look like this.

She's still red, still perfect in her own way.

"Make sure you get out anything you can," she hears Paylor say to Gale. "You know what to do."

"Yeah," he says, looking through the window. He doesn't seem to look forward to it. He turns and is about to go in, when he surprises her and calls her over. She walks up to him.

"What's wrong?"

"I just wanted to let you know, when I go in this room?" he says, giving her a look. "I'm not myself."

Katniss can understand this, but she has to ask. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," is all he says in answer. "Just a warning." And then he surprises her again by leaning in and kissing her, again, like it's normal. Like it's last night, in his bathroom, and he's fixing her wound for her, holding her face.

Then he's in the room, and she stands there stupidly, and she can't look at any of the squad members in the eyes. But they don't say anything about it, or tease her, and she wonders if it's because of their talk earlier. They must have heard some of it. And she's embarrassed, but she's more ashamed, and she can't tell which feeling is worse.

They all witnessed them doing something they weren't supposed to do. She crosses her arms and stares angrily at Reeva. She stands a good distance away from all of them, and avoids their looks.

Gale steels himself as Reeva looks up to him, her eyes guarded and open at the same time. Her mouth parts with indistinct words ready on her tongue, and all he can do is give her a smile he doesn't mean.

"Hey, Reeva," he says, taking the seat across from her.

She shifts. "Gale."

He sighs, rubbing at his face. "This…I didn't want this to happen."

"But it was always going to, wasn't it?" she asks back, seeming sad. "I was reckless. I had fun with you."

"I had fun with you, too," he says. "But we can still have fun, if you want to. This doesn't have to change anything between us."

She laughs. "It already has. Don't be dumb, Gale. This," she gestures between them. "Was never meant to last."

Gale grimaces. "Why not? I…" he laughs. "You know I love you."

She stares at him at this. He can't tell if she believes him, still. She's got her wall up, and he knows it'll be hard to break her.

"Yes," she says after a while, carefully. "I know. But your friends don't. And I know they're standing right outside, watching my every move, trying to read me." She scoffs, and she glares through the glass as if she can see them. "They attacked me, last night."

"I didn't know they were going to," Gale says, sneering. "I didn't know they had this all planned out."

She squints at him. "Don't lie to me."

"Why would I lie?" he asks, holding his hands up. "I have no reason to."

She bites the inside of her lip. "You found the camera."

He doesn't flinch. "So? I always check my apartment when I'm gone longer than a day. It comes with the job." He leans forward. "I have enemies, Reeva. I've gained a reputation. And with this group out, I couldn't trust them not to make a move while I was vulnerable."

"But you thought it was me, didn't you?" she asks, voice crackly.

"You've never given me reason to believe it was you," he says. Then he sits back. "Well, until now. _Was_ it you?"

She tries to glare at him, but fails. "Yes."

He scoffs, turning his head from her. "Really?"

"Of course it was me," she says. "Who else could it have…"

"Anybody else, Reeva," Gale says, his voice turning angry. "It could have been anyone in the entire world. It didn't have to be you." He stands up, putting his hands on the table. "Why was it you?" he shouts.

She flinches. "You never loved me," she says, and tears are in her eyes, and Katniss looks on behind the window, hardly believing it. "You've always loved Katniss. Stupid, ugly Katniss, and I…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Gale hisses. "That bitch broke my heart. I don't want her anymore. I thought you knew that, Reeva."

She wipes roughly at her eyes. "Don't – lie to me."

He growls frustrated. "What would it take for you to believe me, Reeva? What?"

"Well, for starters, if she didn't fucking live with you –"

Gale laughs. "Is that what this is about? Katniss? This is the only reason you picked a fight with her last night?"

Her eyes widen up to him. "Is that what they told you?"

"Yeah. Is it wrong?"

"Yes," she snarls. "I didn't pick a fight. She completely disregarded my outreach for friendship. She called me a whore for loving you and – "

"So you do love me," Gale interrupts, smiling.

Her deep frown vanishes, and she smiles hesitantly back. "…yeah. I do."

It sounds true. Gale keeps up the act like he believes her.

"Then…why did you put the camera in my house?"

She looks away.

"I won't be mad, Reeva. It's okay. I just need to know."

She exhales. "To ensure my loyalty, Gale."

"What loyalty?"

"You know what loyalty."

Gale sits back down in the chair. "So you are Maera, huh?" He clucks his tongue. "I was hoping that was a lie."

"Well, I wasn't supposed to love you. It wasn't exactly on my list of objectives," she mumbles.

He looks at her a long time.

"Don't look at me like that, Gale."

"I'm just thinking," he says. "If I ask you some questions, will you tell me?"

She glances over his shoulder to the window. "If you tell them to leave."

Gale gives her a look, then he glances over his shoulder, gesturing to the squad.

But he knows they won't leave.

"They'll leave," he tells her.

She narrows her eyes at him. He gives her a small smile.

"Don't look at me like that, Reeva," he mirrors her.

"Fine," she says, rolling her eyes. "What questions?"

He thinks. The first ones he asks are the immediate.

"Who attacked me Thursday night?"

She looks at him closely. "You mean you still don't remember?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"I guess not," she trails, letting a nail scratch the table. "...Calypso. At least, that's what you know her by."

"Like Maera is for you?"

She gives him a tight look. "Yes. But it's not like hers matters anymore. She gave it up for what she became."

Gale glares. "What do you mean, 'for what she became'?"

A malicious smile grows onto her face. "She's a little wind-up doll, now. Obedient. Does whatever she can to please. A robot." She glances to Gale. "I can take you to her, you know. To them." She leans forward. "To our leader," she laughs. "Though I have to admit, Gale, that he never was my leader to begin with. I _needed_ someone like him."

Gale looks on at her, an ominous feeling coiling up in the pit of his stomach. "Reeva..."

She shakes her head. "I was using him all this time. He means nothing to me. But I got caught up in it, and he let me become...flawless. Look at me, Gale," she says, her voice shuddering. "I can scratch half of my face off, and it'll be okay. Give me your knife."

He opens his mouth, the rejection not forthcoming. He shakes his head. "No."

"I just want to show you," she says, her voice on the edge of pleading. "Please."

He gives her a hard look. "You won't kill yourself."

Her desperate glance turns into mirth. She laughs at him. "Of course I won't. It'd be too hard to do, anyway," she says, holding out her hand. "Give it to me."

Gale hesitantly takes it out of his belt. He places the hilt of it into her palm. He hopes he won't regret in a few moments.

She takes it, staring at the way it glints in the lighting. Then she spreads her other hand out on the table, and she jams the knife through it. She doesn't flinch. Then she takes it out.

Gale blinks as he watches her wound heal, the angry crimson of her blood vanishing with the nude color of her skin stitching back together.

"What..." he says.

"Regeneration," she answers his breathless question. "To build back what was lost."

"In seconds," he manages. He thinks some more, about his own skin, about the things they don't use in the hospital. "Old technology, right?"

"Yes," she says. "It comes in handy, you know. It's...almost a shame that they don't use more of it. It can save a lot of lives."

"And make life too long, Reeva. That's not..."

"Not what?" she demands. "Moral? Right?" She sits back. "It's a lot of things, Gale. But it's like anything else. It has it's good arguments, and it has its bad ones. Which one outweighs the other?"

Gale clenches his jaw, staring at her.

"Grief doesn't have to exist. Death can finally be something expected, if someone wants. But there doesn't have to be worry, or fear, or the nagging emotions that all of us hate. We can be free, if we want to be."

Her animation adds a certain type of fervor into her fight. She's taken with the idea, and he knows she'll never go back no matter what he says. But he can't help but wonder if she's doing this with the thought of the rest of the populace of Panem, or only for herself. For something selfish. Because she is selfish, and she isn't a symbol for almighty goodness.

He exhales. "What would you get out of this, Reeva?"

She twitches a brow at him, frowning before smiling. "You know me too well, don't you?"

He half-shrugs.

"What would I get..." she says, as if thinking. "Unending beauty. Everything else I said. Long life, not too many emotions, anything I want."

Gale doesn't believe her. "What else?"

She scoffs. "What else is there?"

"You tell me."

She laughs, "Then I guess you'll be waiting to hear nothing."

"Reeva," he pushes. "You can trust me. Don't you know that? You can tell me anything, and I'll...accept it. Like this."

They stare at each other for a while, each trying to read the other, look into their eyes deep enough. Reeva tries to find his lie, and Gale tries to find anything. Her pupils are a cold black, and her eyes are a beautiful amber, but the color is only for covering up what is truly lurking underneath.

He feels it. He can feel her distrust, and her waning feelings. She's blocking out whatever it is she feels for him, if she truly felt anything at all. He can tell by the glassy sheen on her eyes, and the way she bites her lip. He guesses he was really paying attention to her all those months they were together. But surely if he can read her, she can read him.

"I wish I could believe you," she says, finally, after however many minutes pass. The air is stale, and so is the time.

He can keep pretending, or he can let her know the truth. He isn't sure what would be better for his chances to know what she really wants.

"You can, if you want to," he says. "But I need to know, Reeva."

She looks away from him, off to the wall. He can't tell if she's upset - not angry upset or confused upset. She shows those easily. So he wonders if he's really hurting her, if he's capable of making her cry.

"You will never love me if I tell you what I am. But it's not like you do," she says, laughing softly. "Please, Gale. You're so shallow with your lies. I don't understand how anyone can believe them."

He takes it coolly. "Well, Reeva, if I can't ever love you, like you say, what would be the problem in telling me? I guess it won't hurt your chances."

She glares at him, and she sneers, "You were always such an asshole. I thought you'd be easy to get. All broken and mean and needing comfort. I had you in the bag. But I could never get you." She hits her hand on the table, glaring at all the wood stains. "But then Katniss came, and it was perfect. Just perfect."

"Not for you," he says quietly.

She scoffs, "No. Not for me. But perfect for Atlas. Oh, but I guess you haven't actually met him yet, have you?"

He gives her a look, and she merely shrugs. "I never cared about his master plan that had _you_ in it, but he snagged me with one thing, and I couldn't help myself."

Gale sighs frustratedly. "Why don't you tell me what the hell you're talking about, Reeva? Then we can discuss all the details you love so much."

She crosses her arms, teeth showing in a smile. "You look tired, Gale."

He gives her a look. "You're one to talk."

She pouts. "All sweaty from your early morning run."

"Why didn't Calypso kill me, Reeva?" he asks impulsively, ignoring her.

She rolls her eyes to the ceiling. "She likes playing. Sometimes she can't help herself. Hearing all my stories about you, she was probably jealous."

Gale exhales a laugh out of his nose. "She could have been in your spot. Why didn't _she_ get to be my girlfriend? I'm sure she would have done a great job."

Reeva glares deadly. "It's all about fire, Gale. She's cold and malleable, now. I needed to spark you, like in the war. I needed that guy who didn't give a damn about sacrifices. And war starts with a fire."

Gale's lip curls. "Why me? You could have targeted anyone you wanted - "

"But you've got the connections. You work with Paylor and you have Katniss now. Right here, with you. And people will follow where the light's brightest." She leans forward, looking imploringly up at him. "Don't you get it? We need a voice, and people who recognize the voice. Who trust it, more than I trust it." She smiles. "The easiest way into a country's heart is through unyielding trust. Brainwashing helps, too."

"And you think I'd willingly go along with whatever it is that you're doing?" Gale all but shouts. "I don't love you, remember?" he spits out sarcastically.

"Who said you'd do it willingly?"

She didn't.

"What if I said I would," he knots his hands together, "if you took me to Atlas?"

Her fingernails clack against the table. It rattles the air in the room. "You won't," she says. "But I'm going to take you to him. I was always going to take you to him."

He watches her smile carefully. "I guess it goes without saying that the squad's going, too."

"Of course," she leans back. "And Katniss."

He steels his eyes against her. "_Of course_. Today. Right now."

"Oh," she coos. "Taking charge."

He stands, abrupt, walking around to her side and grabbing her elbow. She jerks, but he gets her to stand.

"You lead us into a trap, and I won't have a problem cutting your heart out." He whispers it in her ear, warm and calm. He watches her try not to show fear. But he feels the tense muscles in her arm, the thrum of her veins against his tight fingertips. "How fast is your heart able to regenerate? Maybe I should rip your head off, instead."

"Okay, tough guy," she breathes. "You're burning. A good sign."

He stares at her, and he pulls her with him toward the door.

* * *

a/n; so. went out of town, didn't have internet access except via phone, and ffnet doesn't work well on phones. i flailed a little, and felt really bad. you can hate my guts, but i'll always love you. truce? even though the chapter is way shorter than normal.

and thanks anonymous reviewers. i wanna thank all of you individually for your especially kind words, but i'm too exhausted to try. i'm sorry, but i wanted to get this chapter out as soon as i could.


	21. you can holler, you can wail

a/n; i love you all so freakin' much. i still need to reply to y'all, but i needed to get this chapter out, and i figured posting it would be more appreciated.

chapter twenty-one – you can holler, you can wail

* * *

Reeva doesn't look surprised when they both bulldoze out of the interrogation room and the whole squad is still present. She gives an indelicate sneer, though Gale doesn't loosen his grip. Paylor goes around behind her and places handcuffs tightly around her wrists. She instinctually fights against them a moment before letting herself be bound.

"Tell us where to go, Reeva," Gale commands in her ear. "You've got us by a leash."

She smiles as this, chin high. "Let's go to Snow's old mansion. You remember where that is, don't you?"

Gale's stomach chills. He cuts a glance to Paylor, and she looks back to him. He feels the shift of the squad behind him, Katniss's cheeks paling.

He pushes Reeva's back toward the exit door. "Why don't you refresh our memories?" he whispers, and she laughs, low and long.

* * *

The mansion had remained a specter against the Capitol skyline for the remainder of rebuilding, a quiet choice made by Paylor and the people she had picked for her advisors. It had been roped off as they gutted the house, cleaning out the white roses and the furniture and whatever traps they could find.

They left it vacant, but secure. Gale can't believe he never thought of its potential before.

They get out of the government car, Gale taking his hold on Reeva again. They stand in front of the leering, massive front doors, the squad convening around them.

"So, what?" Johanna places a hand on her hip. "We waltz through the front doors and greet your manic leader with open arms?"

Reeva seems indifferent. "You could try. But they know you're here. You'll find them when they want you to find them."

"Oh, I'm scared," Johanna snarks.

"Not like we haven't infiltrated a base before," Jack says, rolling his shoulders, moving the gun on his back. "Same protocol."

"We know the layout," Paylor speaks up. "Anton, Bolts, start on the west wing. Johanna, Jack, go to the east wing. Gale, Katniss and I will take Reeva, look through the middle and the dead space. Radio in whatever you find. And please," she ends. "Don't be stupid."

They don't look at each other as they depart, Johanna and Jack going toward the left side, Anton and Bolts going to the right. When the four of them start walking to the front doors, Katniss is suddenly laced with a reckoning of fear. Why was she here? She shouldn't…she shouldn't have come. She might die. This is Snow's house, and even in death, Snow has cleaved what she used to be in two, crumbled her like talc in his palms.

She's standing yards away from Prim's death site. She feels it settle into her lungs. She feels the heat of the bomb, feels the debris break the veins in her heart like needles. And all she can think about is how she never called Peeta. Not since the train, not since sitting inside that bathroom, and they had talked about nothing at all. Nothing. And if she dies here, she'll never get to tell him about what a terrible person she is, never get to cry into his shoulder and tell him that she loves him and always will love him, because it's inside of her, and maybe has always been inside her.

She doesn't realize that she's stopped following Paylor and Gale and Reeva until Gale turns and looks at her over his shoulder.

"Katniss," he calls, detached and gone, solid and serious, and she automatically knows that when he gave her the kiss outside the interrogation room, it might be the last thing he could ever give her. He isn't smiling carefree like nothing matters. He's glaring like everything does. And she wishes she didn't understand him, because it makes this all so much harder.

She stares past him to the white structure of the mansion, looks at all the things she overlooked during the war, how pristine and untouched it still manages to be, throughout all the tragedy it held.

She feels her feet move toward them, and they continue walking, and when they walk through the entrance, it's like she's walking into her soul.

She can hardly breathe.

"A little musty, isn't it?" Reeva says to her, grinning.

"Unbearable," she says, tonelessly back.

Reeva laughs. Gale juts his elbow into her ribs, and the laugh abruptly dies.

"Are you going to lead us in circles or not?" he asks.

Reeva shakes her head. "I'm not going to lead you at all. He changes positions all the time. It's not like I know where he is every waking moment."

The lighting is slightly dim, a heavy contrast from the bright white of the overcast outside. Katniss can hear creaks from the shadows, thinks she sees dust cross her vision from the orange light inside.

"Then we do what we do best," Paylor answers, voice deceptively cool. She starts to walk, like she knows where she's going.

They search the few rooms on the first floor, places that might have been a foyer, a living room, a waiting room. They all start to look the same when they're empty. They move on up the center stairs, checking room after room, going down long hallways, the dimness blurring everything together. She keeps her bow poised, ignoring the gun on her belt that Gale had handed her. Gale and Paylor have their guns up protectively, Reeva looking amused between all three of them.

"This used to be such a pretty house," she says, glancing around as the metal of the cuffs clang together. It's the only noise in the open space.

It was never pretty, Katniss thinks, but she doesn't say it. Reeva seems to be ready for any type of interaction, and Katniss doesn't want to give her that.

They go down a few more hallways, but Katniss is already lost. It's a maze in here, and she forgot how twisted and uncertain this place made her.

Paylor's radio crackles minutes later after a few more failed attempts at finding anything. Bolts's voice comes over the line, breaking the stagnant air.

"Found some type of generators in the basement, but no human contact. Over."

Gale glances over to Paylor. "Sounds important. Think they should maintain position?"

"Probably," Paylor says clipped. She hits the button on the walkie. "Stand ground there. We might need that later. Over."

"Sure thing," says Anton, voice three times lighter than it probably should be. "We'll just hang out here in the dark, scary basement until you finish everything."

Katniss, amused, can't make herself smile. She glances around toward the black lines of the hallway, the chill from behind her making her glance every other second behind her shoulder because the shadows are always at her heels, always about to consume her and trap her with it's sticky, web-like tendrils.

She hears the floorboards creak behind her, hears a whisper, smells the toxic scent of blood and roses, overpowering her nose, her senses. Her stomach rolls with nausea, her head filled with muffled reason.

The whispering becomes louder, blocking out all the silence surrounding her. She turns away from Gale and Paylor and Reeva, looking beyond the black, seeing the vivid, bright white from years ago. The dark is illuminated. The floor is untouched.

Her feet start to walk into the white, and she can see...and she can remember...

A hand clamps onto her shoulder and she gasps, spinning and flailing, going to shoot her arrow -

"Katniss," Gale breathes, eyes widened at the arrow ready to cut into his chest. She slowly brings it down against the whispers clamoring and telling her to shoot him, telling her it would be for the best if she just -

She closes her eyes, shakes her head. But her vision is foggy when she isnt looking into the white.

"I think..." she chokes, feeling her insides crawl. "I think I know where to go."

He ignores her. "Katniss, your eyes -"

"Fine, I'm fine." she turns back to the white length of hallway. "We need to go this way."

"Katniss," he says, commanding. "You're not alright -"

She keeps walking away from him, but she can hear all three behind her through the whispers.

Reeva smiles at Gale and Paylor's disconcerted looks, and says, "This house did use to be so pretty. I think she remembers."

Their feet don't give away their suspicion of Katniss's sudden knowing. Gale tries to stop her a few times, but her shoulder is like the corner of a table ramming into his palm. It makes him fearful for her – she's in a trance. Like she's stuck, like she's drugged again.

He remembered his last words to her, his last actions. Giving her that arrow to kill Snow, glancing at her withdrawn face in the mirror, her eyes impressed into his mind, the touch of her cheek for the last moment that would haunt him forever.

Her bow hangs defenselessly at her side. The arrows in her quiver rattle unashamed amid the floating dust and the dead spirits.

"Is your love going off the deep end again, Gale?" Reeva mocks behind him, staring at the back of his neck. "Does it bring back the wonderful memories of your time together?"

He looks over his shoulder to her, sneering while Paylor jerks her along by her side.

"If you're trying to provoke me," he says. "You're doing it all wrong."

Reeva pouts. "Provoke you? Why would I want to do that?"

Gale turns his head back around and ignores her, enjoying the sound of the metal of her cuffs. He hopes they're tight, hopes they dig the flesh off her wrists over and over again, through her regenerating.

Katniss stops in front of a wide door a few minutes later, her head craning back to glance at the wood. Her hand goes out to touch it, feeling the white paint, smooth and cold under her fingers.

"In here," she whispers, and her voice sounds scared, shy, without weight. "It's always been here."

Gale comes up beside her, notices the hazy sheen of her eyes, and tries not to worry, because if he worries, and if he thinks about her too much, he won't worry about what's behind the door, how it might be death.

Paylor radios Johanna, telling her their position. "Snow's old room," she says. "We're going in. It could be a trap. Make sure you're nearby if we need backup."

"Roger that."

"Don't be so cautious," Reeva titters, once Paylor clicks off the walkie. "You're going to die either way, Paylor."

In response, Paylor butts the back of her head with the hilt of her gun. Reeva shrieks.

"I don't die easy," Paylor hisses. "Kind of like you."

"Please," Reeva hisses back. "All it takes is a little stab to your neck."

Paylor motions to Gale, and he steps to the side. Paylor brings Reeva fully in front of her, and she comes up to the door. She reaches her hand around to the knob, and she shoves it open.

The room bristles. It's bright and alive, disconnected from the dark, dank rooms surrounding them. It smells chemically sterile, like when he was lying in the hospital bed, an electric hum hovering around the cave of his ears.

He's able to see large containers, tables, silver contraptions with needles and knives, computers, and it's all shine, like it's never seen any work. It's deceptively clean and quiet.

In a second, his back is jammed into the wall behind him, wrists locked and immobile above his head, knees buckled by a different set of legs.

He grunts and sees a girl with silver, wiry hair, flowing and glowing down her face and back, her eyes holding the electric hum of the room, all blue and striking. Her skin has a sheen, like it isn't skin. Lights show down her body periodically, eye-catching, tantalizing.

"I told you we'd meet again," she says, smiling, her teeth sharp and white, matching the walls and floors.

He doesn't know her, but he feels like he does, like the hands on his wrists are the ones that broke his bones. His ribs move within him in anger.

"Calypso," he says, a grimace coming to his face.

She giggles. "Reeva talked about me, didn't she?" she says, turning to eye her, still in her cuffs, Paylor a step away, her gun poised and ready.

"Just enough," Reeva says back, her face holding obvious annoyance. "You're kind of hard to miss."

"Harder to miss than you," she smiles. "And harder to kill. Virtually indestructible. Did she tell you?" she asks Gale, cocking her head to the side. She doesn't wait for his answer, instead giving a calculating glance to Paylor, and Katniss, who is looking off somewhere to the distance.

"I have to say, I'm proud of you Maera," Calypso says, still glancing at Katniss. "I didn't think you'd persuade Gale to actually bring her."

Reeva smiles at this. "He's got a bit of a hero complex."

"Since you two are so talkative, tell me where Atlas is."

They both look at Paylor, who looks livid, glaring at the both of them. Reeva tuts.

"How am I supposed to know? I've been under surveillance."

Calypso laughs. "He'll be here soon enough. Don't worry, president." She looks up to Gale. "Are your poor wrists weak, yet?"

Gale growls. "What did you do to Katniss?"

She raises a metal brow. "Me?" She lowers her voice. "Maybe you should ask the house. Magical things happen here." She looks his face up and down. She sighs. "Oh, Reeva, can we share?"

"You can have him," she answers. "It's almost all over, anyway."

"What is it you do here?" Gale asks between his teeth. "Experiment? Become robot dolls?"

She grins at him, crunching his wrists tighter together. "It's a little obvious. Atlas is a genius. He knows things. He granted me this power because he knew it would make me better. I had faith. And he was right." Her eyes shine brighter. "I'm his best creation."

"So if I pour water on you, you won't fry?"

She throws her head back and laughs. "It's called synthesis, Gale. Being one with technology. I'm still human. I just have lights strung inside me, power that should be unreal. I can please you," she says, her voice quieting. "I can do anything you want me to do."

Gale glares into her eyes. "Then let me go."

She coos. "Everything but that. I only please Atlas, right now. Maybe after?"

Gale forces a laugh. "Maybe."

Katniss's sharp gasp makes all their heads turn. Calypso's hands loosen a fraction, and Paylor turns her weapon on the man that walks into the room. Gale blinks a few times to make sure that the man isn't a figment of his imagination, because he's dead _dead_ buried six feet under, not real.

Katniss backs away each step he takes forward toward her. His eyes are beady, his figure wrapped in white, skin pale, white hair white roses like he came right down from the clouds.

In her shock, Paylor lowers her gun to her waist. "Snow? Snow is your Atlas?"

Reeva starts to smile at the question, Calypso whispering, "He's finally animated."

Gale fights against Calypso's hands, twisting and jerking, kicking at her stomach. She bends back a little, but she is relatively unaffected, moving the way he moves without giving him a flicker of attention. All eyes are on Snow, and Gale just wants Paylor to shoot him, because he's not real.

"Shoot him, Paylor," he all but screams. "Shoot him."

Paylor doesn't listen to him, and at first he thinks it's because of her shock. But she starts to move, walk toward him, and she doesn't hesitate in standing in front of him, and he just keeps walking, as if he doesn't see her. She points her gun out, hitting him in the chest. At the contact, he halts, staring at her blankly, doing nothing to protect himself.

Paylor stares him down, pulls the safety back on the gun, when a laugh echoes through the room. It bounces across everyone, and Gale stills his fight. Katniss jerks her head over to where Snow first entered.

The man that walks into the room is entirely less intimidating than Snow, wearing something that resembles a lab coat, old enough to be Gale's father, nothing abnormal about his face besides the smile and laugh lines he's wearing.

He's just a man. A stranger, unknown by anyone. Gale's never seen him in his life.

"Of course he's not Atlas," he laughs. "I am."

Paylor shoves Snow out of the way, pointing her gun at him. "Who the hell are you?"

Calypso's hands tighten on Gale. He grunts.

"Don't talk to him that way."

"It's alright, sweetheart," he says. He puts his hands in his pockets, turning to Paylor and shrugging nonchalant, smiling. "Just someone with a large imagination."

"Imagination?" Gale says, angrily thrashing. "You brought back a monster."

Reeva starts to laugh, soft at first, then exponentially. She turns away from facing Atlas and Paylor, looking over to Gale, eyes sharp and intense. She takes a few steps toward him, giving him a disdainful glare.

"You know the reason why I've stayed with them so long, Gale? The one thing I couldn't tell you, the one thing that would make you hate me forever," she says, walking a few feet closer. She cuts her eyes at Calypso.

"Let him go."

Calypso giggles. "I don't think so."

"Let him the fuck go," she growls, eyes dilating. Calypso glances at her, then to Atlas, who nods his head. Calypso hesitates before dropping his hands, giving Gale a lingering look.

"Don't try anything stupid, or I'll break all your fingers."

Gale gives her a dirty look, almost hearing his wrists creak. He gives her no satisfaction, ignoring the pain. Reeva shoves past Calypso, looking up at Gale.

"Snow is my father," she states, and he's never seen her struggle with words before, but he sees her throat move. He stares at her.

"What?"

"Don't act so surprised, my boy," Atlas says, looking at Paylor's gun. She remains pointing it toward him, her finger twitching against the trigger, unsure if killing him would create more questions than answers. "Didn't you ever suspect?"

Gale tries to match up Reeva's admittance to the truth in front of him, trying to find any piece of her that resembles the structure of the man that ruined his life for so long. But besides her personality and her easy manipulation, her vengeful fire, her shape doesn't look like him. Like other parts of her – her sometimes crazed need for affection, her jealousy and her rage. Her easy, short fuse. He thinks that maybe she's more of her mother's daughter than her father's. Or maybe he never knew Reeva – never truly.

And he suddenly feels sick, screwing half the genes of Snow for so long.

"No," he chokes. "I didn't."

"Ah, well," Atlas says, clapping his hands together. "You were a better actress than you thought, Reeva. I'm proud of you."

"Shut up, old man," Reeva snips, still looking at Gale. "I don't care what you think."

Atlas gives Paylor a look, a smile and a nod, holding up his hands. He gestures to Reeva before walking toward her.

"Yes you do, because you have no one else."

Reeva's face changes, a dark blanket diluting her eyes. She gives a longing look to Gale, before taking a few steps backward.

"I do now," she says quietly. "My father walks again."

"But he never cared about you," he answers, glancing toward her. "Not enough to take you as his own."

Reeva tightens her jaw. "It doesn't matter. He'll spend the rest of his life getting to know me, whether he wants to or not."

Atlas chuckles. "He won't have time if he's ruling the country."

"He'll make time, this time," she says through bared teeth. "I'll get his mouth to bleed again, make him regret never giving me the time of day. Never giving me anything. Only taking my life away from me."

Atlas gives her a look. "We're your family now, Reeva."

"That's right," says Calypso. "We're sisters."

Reeva ignores her, sneering up to Atlas. Her back is stiff and rigid, hackles raised as if she were a dog.

"You know why I'm here," she says. "And it's not for the company.'

"Of course," Atlas says. "But have you not felt any companionship between us at all? I helped make you into what you are. I have helped bring your father back to life. We all loved you when there was no one else that ever loved you in your life – "

"You don't love me!" Reeva shouts, almost spitting in his face. "You don't love any of us. You're using us just like I was trying to use you. Getting what I want. Perfection. To show the world that I'll always be better than them. To show my father what a dirty, pathetic piece of shit he truly was all those years."

"Ah, Maera…"

"My fucking name is Reeva," she snarls. "I'm not Maera anymore."

"Consider your words before you speak, darling," he tells her calmly. "What I have given you, I can easily take away."

Reeva's back goes even more still, and Gale can't see her face, but he imagines it loses color. His eyes cut to Paylor, but Paylor is eying Calypso, who is surveying all of them, standing watch.

She can snap their necks in a second, if she wanted to. And if they need Gale like Reeva had said, if that wasn't a lie, he knows he needs to do something. Take some sort of action. Paylor can't do a thing without putting her life at any more risk than it already is.

He glances over to Katniss, who is still staring at the body slip of Snow. He stands where Paylor had shoved him, body breathing but eyes unseeing.

He listens back to Reeva and Atlas, still talking about family and what it means. He wonders for a split second about Reeva's full past – who her mother was, who she grew up with to make her suddenly seem like such a broken person. But he starts to move towards Katniss, because Reeva and her mysteries aren't as important.

"Where do you think you're going?" Calypso appears in front of him, hand on her hip.

"Away from you." He sidesteps her before she grabs his arm.

"My dear Calypso, let him be. He's worried about his girl."

Calypso glares at Gale before letting him go, eyes containing a threat. She watches him finish his walk to Katniss.

He touches her arm when he reaches her. "Hey, snap out of it."

Her arm shakes limply in his hand. "Katniss…"

"I can't," she whispers, and he looks up to Snow, who's a few feet away from them. He has to admit that it's unnerving, looking into the face of a ghost, zombie eyes that make his mind ring.

"Katniss," he says, gripping her shoulder harder. "He's not real. Okay? He's not."

"On the contrary," he hears Atlas say, his shoes clapping against the floor. "He's one hundred percent real."

Paylor clicks her gun at him, but he clicks his tongue.

"I wouldn't do that, Miss President," Atlas laughs. "If you do, all of your squad will be dead in seconds, and once Snow undergoes his final stage of transformation, he'll be ruler once again."

"Impossible," Paylor counters. "Nobody will allow Snow to take over."

"I think you're wrong," he smiles, sharp. "Minds are extremely malleable. Just look at your Mockingjay."

Gale swallows back his anger.

"Just a few implanted illusions for her, and she's half out of her mind. It won't take much to put her on our side."

"She'd never listen to you," Gale hisses.

"Yes she will," he answers patiently. "She's weak. Unlike you and your president, her mind isn't conditioned very well. Plus, I think I have something that will make her turn her back on everyone in the world."

He's so completely certain of himself. Gale's hands itch for his gun, for his knives that touch his skin through his pants. He side-glances to Snow, who's immobile, watching all of them. He looks back to Atlas, Calypso, the wasted eyes of Reeva. To Paylor, who's about to open her mouth to speak.

He takes a chance.

He discreetly pulls a knife from his belt, gauges the distance, then throws it directly into Snow's forehead. Few drops of blood leak from the wound, and before Gale's able to see if it did anything at all, he hears Reeva's shriek, feels his body slam into the floor, Calypso whispering venom into his ear about how stupid he is, how ridiculous, how reckless, how idiotic –

But he doesn't hear much of what she says, only how her knee is about to break his spine if he tries to struggle, tries to move.

Katniss blinks, her mind slightly focusing. She sees Snow bleeding from his face, though he remains standing. She turns around quickly to see Calypso and Gale behind her, Calypso twisting his arms in an unbreakable hold. Sees Paylor suddenly aiming at Reeva, negotiating Gale's life for hers.

Her skin prickles at Atlas's laughter.

"Please, Paylor. I can't kill Gale while his heart still beats. If you kill Reeva, I'll end your life. But first…ah, yes," he says, touching his ear. "Dione should be quite finished with…Jack and Jill?"

Paylor's jaw subtly clenches. Gale bites out ugly words at Calypso.

"Your poor little friends," Calypso shushes. "Dead because of you."

"And I think the next ones will be much easier. In the basement, correct?" He glances to Calypso. "I think you should take those, sweetheart. They might try to shut you off."

Calypso stands, bringing Gale up with her. She puckers her face at Atlas. "But I want to be here when you – "

"Sh," Atlas interrupts. "You will be if you hurry. Dione will be here in a second."

Calypso shoves Gale one last time into the floor, then she's gone.

Before Gale can act, Paylor already has Anton and Bolts on the walkie.

"Turn off the generator."

"Already did. It's counting down, now. And we found this really weird thing down here – " Anton answers.

"Calypso is going to you," Paylor is able to interrupt, before the static takes over the radio.

Gale and Paylor share a look before Gale says, "Call Calypso off them, and I'll give you whatever you need from me."

Atlas looks amused. "I'm going to take it from you. There is no room for discussion."

Before Gale can, Paylor shoots Atlas in the chest. He steps back at the force, the bloodied spot healing in seconds. He smiles at her.

"I was wondering when you were going to actually take action."

"I figured you'd have injected yourself with all kinds of _magic_," Paylor spits. "Why waste my bullets."

"Yes," he agrees, bringing Reeva around to him. He pulls something from his pocket, and Reeva's cuffs fall away. "Had to make sure you wouldn't do anything drastic if I freed you."

"Why should I?" she says softly, eyes going over to her father, trails of blood marring his coat with dark red. "It's going to take even more time for Snow to heal again, and I need you for that."

"Good girl," he answers, petting her hair.

Gale feels Katniss come up beside him, hand touching his arm.

"Gale…" she whispers. "Something's wrong with me."

"You'll be okay," he answers back, touching her face. "Fight against it."

"But I can't – "

"Oh, Katniss Everdeen." Atlas's voice echoes. "You are the piece I need. I've always needed." He gestures toward her. "Come here, my dear. I have something I would like to give you."

Katniss closes her eyes against his face, trying to block out the pitch in her brain. She feels her muscles pull against her legs involuntarily, like she's being controlled, like she's a toy.

"No," she chokes out. "No, I'm not your piece."

Gale grips the crook of her elbow, jerking her back toward him. "You can't have her."

Atlas smiles. "Yes, I can. Katniss," he says again. "Come here."

Katniss shakes her head wildly, but her legs keep walking forward. "Stop it. Stop it!"

Gale puts his other hand on her, trying to fight her legs. "Don't listen to him, Katniss."

"But – but something – " Katniss breathes, staring down at her disobedient legs, eyes wide. "Something…"

"Let her go, Gale," Paylor says, breaking through his panic. He gives her an incredulous look.

"Are you crazy?" he shouts. "They'll kill her."

"No they won't," Paylor answers, her voice cool, belying her hard eyes. "Let her go."

Gale swallows, looking at Katniss, looking at Atlas, knowing how he'll regret his decision forever, because either way, he can't protect her. No matter how much he wants to, he'll always fail. And he thought this time might be different. If he had just done something a little different.

He lets her go.

"Motherfucker!"

The wall near the door explodes into a thousand pieces of plaster, two girls flying among them, falling onto the ground.

"I'm going to rip your heart out, you bitch."

"You've been _trying_ for a long while."

Johanna rolls on top of the other girl, pinching her neck between both her hands. Dione throws her over, taking a position on top of her, punching the side of her face. Blood sprays off Johanna's face.

Gale acts on impulse, running and tackling Dione off of Johanna. Johanna spits and glares at Gale as he holds Dione down.

"Get the fuck off her," Johanna snarls. "She's mine."

"You look like shit," Gale answers, "And I need to beat someone up."

"Oh, I never got to see you," Dione says, looking up to him with her dark brown eyes. "Never got to mess with you like Maera and Calypso."

"Sorry," Gale says. "You won't get the chance."

He takes his other knife from his belt, this one serrated and long like a dagger, and he plunges it into her chest before she can react.

She screams out, thrashing, scratching at his face and neck with her sharp nails, hair whipping into his cuts.

Then Gale's shoved over and Johanna's there, hand on the hilt of his dagger, sawing out her heart.

"Let's see if you can regenerate after this," Johanna whispers harshly, pulling the dagger out after finishing. She points it to her neck while Dione chokes on her blood.

"And after this," Johanna says, going to cut her neck. Gale doesn't try to stop her. He watches for a second, his eyes going to Atlas, who looks a little disappointed. But his hand is gripping Katniss's arms, and Katniss looks angry and upset, body shaking in protest.

"She always wanted to be a princess," Atlas announces, shaking his head.

Jack then slams through the door, showering expletives out of his mouth. "When shadows turn into fucking crows that come at you to eat your face, you know shit's about to hit the fan." He pulls out a stray, broken beak from his shoulder, throwing it frustrated to the ground. Feathers decorate his red, sticky cuts along his arms, half his face bruised.

"Jack," Katniss cries out, eyes looking over his wounds. "You're okay."

Through the concern on his face, taking in the scene and lingering on Johanna, Dione and Gale, but he's able to give her a smile. "'Course I am, sugar. Think a few hoards of crows can take me out?"

Atlas gives Reeva a gun from his lab coat, whispering something into her ear. Then he takes Katniss nearer to the front wall of the room, near the tables and the shining metal.

Jack takes a few steps forward before Reeva cuts him off with her gun, Paylor telling him to stop. Gale helps Johanna up from her position, her hands and face covered with black-red bloodstains, Gale's eyes following Atlas and Katniss while Johanna shares a look with Jack.

Atlas's lips find Katniss's ear. "Now," he says, "I want to give you a gift." He places his hands on Katniss's shoulders, standing behind her. He calls out. "Prim, dear, won't you come out?"

Katniss blinks at his words but doesn't react until she sees her walk around the corner, around where Snow came from, eyes a bright and gorgeous blue, her hair and cornflower yellow as it was on her best days. There are freckles on her face, an inquisitive look in her eyes, wearing the same dress she did at the Reaping.

Katniss gasps, and she chokes, and her knees smash into the ground. This can't be real – but she wants it to be. She wants it to be so bad.

"Prim?" she asks, voice timid and more scared than she can remember. "Prim."

"Katniss," she answers, her voice close to happy.

And Katniss's mind fogs over, static filling her up. She tries to stand, but her legs are too weak. She can only stare up at Prim.

But Prim doesn't run to her. She stays where she is, all smiles and sunshine.

"Now, Katniss," Atlas says, voice low and smooth. "You and Prim can live together, without any trouble or harm ever again."

Katniss feels her eyes heat up.

"But if, and only if, you're able to give me what we need."

At this Reeva turns, points her gun at Gale, and shoots. It resounds through the room as Paylor instinctively reacts, shooting three rounds into Reeva's head, ineffective, the holes stitching up. She jerks her head back and smiles Paylor's smoking gun.

Johanna runs at her in a rage, only to be shot point blank in her shoulder, body spinning from the force, stumbling to the ground. Jack holds his ground, but he looks menacing, his muscles tensing under his skin as he keeps himself from losing control.

"It's just one little bullet," Reeva says, grinning, walking toward Gale's form on the ground. "Nothing a little regeneration magic can't fix." She looks down at him as she stands above him, glancing at the wound in his stomach, the blood pooling on the ground. He glares up at her the best he can.

"But he won't need any, anyway," she keeps talking, pulling him up from the ground. He grunts helplessly, though he tries futilely to jerk away. She pulls him into her, forcing him to where Atlas is. "You're going to die no matter what you try to do."

"The fuck – are you talking about," Gale growls between his teeth, spitting out saliva and blood.

Atlas smiles at him, and Gale can only see Katniss on her knees, staring disbelievingly to little – to little Prim. She was too far away for him to believe it a second earlier, but she stands, and she's smiling, her eyes only for Katniss. Skin clean. Arms, legs, head attached. There are no burn marks on her, nothing that claims she had really died, except for her age. She is still thirteen years old, preserved from the hands of time.

He breathes out so hard, he almost feels the bullet move inside him.

"How is this possible…"

"Just like Snow is possible," Reeva whispers happily into his ear. "Technology. Science. The end of death as we know it."

Gale thinks he's lost to much blood. The rims of his eyes see black. They frame Prim like a portal.

"I…I don't…"

"Sh," she hushes him affectionately. "I don't want you to hurt yourself any more than you have."

He blinks, trying to wipe away the insanity crawling up his throat.

"Katniss," Atlas says. "I need a life for a life. This one," he gestures to Gale. "Killed Prim. But we were able to bring her back. But not without a price." He juts his head to Snow. "His heart was not able to regenerate. Not like his brain or his liver. Something is different in the heart – something more complex than the mind. And isn't that strange? How could any organ be more complex than the human mind?" He places his hands behind him, glancing down at the ground in thought. "The one thing that can't regenerate. So I need one." He looks over to Gale. "A strong one. One that will live on after you die."

Gale stares at him as Reeva holds him up. He tries to laugh.

"You want mine."

"I want something that will restart Snow the right way. This procedure cannot be taken lightly." Atlas grins. "And I have a thing for irony. So." He turns to Katniss. "His life for your sisters."

He reaches to her back and pulls out an arrow. She's still gripping her bow like a lifeline, her left hand still tense around it, fingers white. He places the arrow in her right.

"Reeva," Atlas says. "Take care of them." He gestures toward Paylor and Johanna and Jack, as if he knows they're about to do something drastic. Reeva kicks Gale to his knees, looks at him one last time, and leaves.

Katniss glances at the new arrow in her hand, then back up to Prim. Atlas helps her to stand, turning her away from Prim to face Gale. Katniss looks at him blankly. Gale stares back at her, and he almost thinks he could stop her if he wasn't bleeding so much. Maybe if he bled out fast enough, she wouldn't have to choose.

"Katniss," he says. He tastes his life coating his lips, feels his heart beating faster and faster and faster.

Atlas leans to her ear. He says, "I want you to kill him."

Gale does his best to hold her eyes with his, but her gray is gone, her pupils dilated beyond coherency. They're black, and sightless, but he thinks she can come back. She's strong enough, if she wants to be.

"She won't be the same," he manages to say. "Prim. No matter what he promises you, there isn't a way Prim will be Prim."

Katniss blinks. Atlas laughs.

"Yes, Katniss," he tells her. "She is."

"No, Katniss," Gale says, wondering if the the words he says are true, and hoping that they are. "Trust me. She will never be the Prim you remember."

"Shoot him," Atlas commands. "Before I have to do it myself."

"Katniss," Gale breathes. "Nothing is wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you, anymore." But he sees her knock the arrow back, and he closes his eyes, because he can't watch his best friend lose herself. Not like this. Not when he couldn't help her. Not when this is her battle.

Not when she could only help herself.

He hears the strain of the arrow on the string, the pull of his heart against his broken ribs.

Katniss shoots.

And Gale hopes that she remembers that he loves her.

* * *

a/n; my brain hurts from trying to decipher different anonymous reviews. i would reply by like, anonymous number one and anonymous number two, but i dunno how great that would work. plus, i've gotta be honest. i am a super lazy person. but i wanted to get this out before tomorrow, because one of you is going out of town. hope you liked it!


	22. dial it back

chapter twenty-two – dial it back

'lost her behind the station  
lost her behind the moon  
what a mess a little time makes to us when time and place collide.  
I loved her too long. Don't take her too.' - satellite, the kills

* * *

The arrow whistles an inch past Gale's ear. It lands behind him with a quick crunch, a strangled shriek following a second after. Gale opens his eyes, though his vision is tinged with blurriness. He can see Katniss in front of him, bow still held high, body visibly shaking. And he's not sure what he feels, at this exact moment, because it all happens so fast.

Atlas's mouth turns to a grimace of anger. Gale watches as he goes after her, reaching his hands out to her face. Gale pushes forward instinctively, bumping his knees, making Atlas buckle and fall.

"Katniss, now!" he says with the breath left in his lungs. They're drowning, and he's choking, but when he sees the arrow land into Atlas's chest, right where his heart should be, he numbly smiles at the scientist's attempt to remove it, and how he fails. Gale reaches up and jams it in harder, both their blood mixing in a slow burning puddle.

The life peters out of Atlas's eyes at an astonishing rate, faster than it should. Just in case, he twists it around with all the energy left in his hand. He almost falls over when he looks up, staring at the back of Katniss, and how she's looking at Prim, her chest still heaving, and he can only imagine what her face looks like.

But Prim's face is suddenly stricken. Katniss's arm shakes as she points the bow directly in the line of what must be her heart.

Gale isn't sure if she'll do it – he knows she can, but there's only so much someone can take. And Gale can't take his eyes off Prim, because five years have deluded her face behind his eyes, and suddenly she's so lively standing there, looking like she'll cry out of confusion and surprise and desperate pleading.

"Katniss," she says. Her voice is even the same. The pitch, the high sweetness all delicate in his ears like syrup.

Katniss's body rakes with a sob. "God, Prim. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"What are you doing?" she asks, almost hysterical. "I love you."

Katniss feels her jaw suddenly weight a thousand pounds, shifting and trying to keep her emotions in check. Except they bleed out of her eyes in tears, in buckets, snot mixing with spit.

"I know," she breathes, haggard. "I love you, too."

But Prim doesn't walk toward her, or throw her arms around her, like she's supposed to. And Katniss is too shaky and scared and everything else to be able to walk, herself. She doesn't want to believe that Prim is real, even though she wants to, because she's so close and after all this time, she can take her home and forget. Forget about everything.

Prim is crying at the arrow in her hand. And she still doesn't run to her. And as far as Katniss can tell, her eyes aren't like Snow's eyes. They hold cognition, and they hold emotion, and everything in her tells her that it doesn't matter how it's possible because _who the fuck cares_. Atlas is bleeding out on the floor, she knows, because his blood is staining her boots and her mind is free from all the static – and he never mattered.

But Prim does. And Gale does. And Snow matters, too, because this will never be over if no one goes to finish it.

Before she can do anything, there's a hand gripping the back of her neck, closing on her pulse and her nerves, and she's starting to choke, her hand loosening on her bow as she tries her best to keep it from falling. She flails around as best she can, kicking behind her, elbowing, trying to keep the black haze from consuming her eyes.

And when she strains and looks over to Prim, because what if she dies here and never sees her? – Prim's tears disappear, and she does nothing, nothing for her, and Katniss doesn't know or care where anyone else is or what they're doing because there's something sinister surrounding her sister, right before her, and she can't –

And she realizes that her sister is a ghost. She's a monster, in this synthetic skin and her golden hair. And someone like Atlas, like any of them, could never bring back a spirit so pure. Though she's suddenly struck with the thought that he tried. Tried to create something close to perfection. Something only a god could create.

The hand around her neck is gone. It slips away, but she doesn't have time to wonder or care about the who or what or the why about it. She hurries, pulls back the arrow that's slipped away from the bowstring, aims, whispers a silent prayer, and shoots.

She watches her sister's eyes mimic Snow's, watches as the blood flows out silently, can almost see her heart stop.

And then her hair is gray, and her freckles turn to ash, and her skin turns into silver wires, and she crumples to the ground like a broken doll.

Katniss plays with the idea that maybe she wouldn't have cared so much, living with fake skin and fake hair and fake love. She thinks it might have been okay.

Arms wrap around her and she stiffens and tries to retreat, but she looks up to see Bolts's face, red smeared on his cheek, expression bordering between hard and serious.

"Ambulance is outside," he tells her, but she only looks up into his face. "We got to get a few of us to the hospital while a forensic and crime scene group comes." He pushes her hair back, and she feels sweat move across her forehead. His look turns soft. "You'll be okay."

It seems a lot of them have said that in the past minutes. They're confident, but she's not so sure.

Then she closes her eyes and falls into the strong arms of Bolts.

She wakes up in a hospital bed, though she's not sure why. She can't remember getting wounded, harmed, or pushed around, only screwed around with her mind. Her brain has a disgustingly deep headache, and she can feel her pulse hard and fast between her eyes. She feels the ghost of fingers gripping her neck, but it vanishes as she touches the skin. It sinks under the pressure she puts on it, stinging with bruises.

She looks up to the ceiling, and she feels fine. But her eyes water, and all she can want is to cry. So she does.

She doesn't move from her bed until her mom comes in, her nurse outfit crumpled, her hair a mess. She runs around to her bedside when she sees that Katniss is awake, and Katniss looks at her, and she almost starts crying again because her hair is cornflower yellow and her eyes are cerulean, and they look so much different than Prim's. She wishes they didn't.

Her mom must have heard about the ordeal, or maybe Paylor came by and told her – it doesn't matter. Her arms reach out and cradle her, and she wipes the tear tracks on her face with a gentle hand, gets onto the hospital cot with her, and lies there with her.

Katniss listens to the hum of her mom's heartbeat, and she's never wondered so much about life and how it ceases to exist. She listens to it for a long, long time. She doesn't want to stop, because it has to keep pumping, and it has to keep living.

She's never loved her mother more.

Her mom eventually starts talking. She tells her where Gale's room is, and Johanna's. They're fine, like they always are, just a little more beat up and a little more scarred.

"They've never been afraid of dying," she says, a branch of her one-sided conversation. "I think that's why Paylor is always with them. She's not good at trusting."

Paylor, Bolts, and Anton have been up at Snow's mansion, along with Paylor's team of assistants, looking over all the tools and papers and information on the computers Atlas had locked away in his own, personal office. Katniss blankly thinks it's the area none of them saw, where Snow and Prim came out like it was their home, too.

"I've been here, so I don't know much about what they've found. It's always all very secretive when something like this happens. The journalists are usually overpowered, sometimes forcefully, before they get any cohesive information."

Sounds like Paylor. There's something about her with keeping problems to herself.

Anton had come to check in on her while she was still sleeping. He stayed with Johanna for a while, then went back.

"How bad was Gale?" Katniss asks after a while, staring off at a wall.

"Not as bad as last time," her mom tells her, shifting and soothing her with rubbing her hair hack on her head. "The uniforms they wear help to protect against gunshots. Knives have a harder time breaking through. The bullet didn't hit any organs, but his muscle tissue will have to heal. Nothing some of my medicine won't help heal," she smiles.

Katniss sighs.

"I can walk you over to him," Elaine suggests.

"No," Katniss says hurriedly. "No, not right now."

Her mom doesn't ask why, but she has to leave soon. Katniss asks her about her phone, which was still in the pocket of her old clothes. When her mom tells her she'll be back soon to check on her and leaves, Katniss goes to her discarded clothes on the side table, and pulls out her phone. She sits back on the bed and finds Peeta's contact. Her thumb hesitates for a second before touching his name, and it starts to ring.

She's nervous, just like the first time she called him. It's only been a few days. It feels like a lifetime.

"Katniss?" he asks immediately, once he clicks through the line.

His voice pulls out a shaky breath from her.

"Hi, Peeta."

"What's wrong?" He says it like he knows. Like he knows everything already. "Is everything okay?"

Her stomach tightens because everything is not okay, and she's not even sure where to start or if she even wants to talk about it.

"No," she impulsively starts. "Nothing is okay."

Then the words spill, and she tells him about the resistance group and Reeva and Atlas and Snow and Prim, and she's not sure if she makes any sense at all, because her ears are all clogged and she isn't really thinking. But his words are soothing, and rich and warm, and if his tone holds shock, he tries not to let her hear it. And she's glad for it, because all she wants him to do is listen. And he's so good at it.

He shushes her after a while, and she doesn't even know she's crying until she hears him speak to her. She can almost feel his arms around her in a hug, but then she immediately feels disgust because she doesn't deserve him or his words or his listening because she suddenly feels the pull of wanting to talk or be near to someone else. As much as Peeta tries to understand and feel what she feels, he never will. He never knew Prim – not really. He never had a sibling or the unconditional love of a family, and it all makes her feel worse, but – she's…she doesn't know. She feels a lot of things. She feels too much.

And she hates how after she tells him goodbye, she runs out of her room, blindly in pursuit of a singular room number. And once she finds it, she bursts through and stops, breathing heavy, staring at him.

He's sitting up, head leaning against the headboard, the pillow positioned so he's staring at the ceiling. At her intrusion, he jerks and looks over to her.

"Hey, Catnip," he greets. And as much as she's cried, she doesn't seem to have a limit. She coughs a sob, going over to the side of his bed and crawling onto the side, just like her mom did before. She rests her head on his chest, wraps an arm around his waist. Her ear finds the strength of his pulse, as headstrong as a horse, something she was closer to ending than she'll let herself admit, and she says, "Hi, Gale."

And they say nothing else.

* * *

"Sorry I kissed you," is the first thing he says after a long time passes. Katniss hadn't looked at a clock earlier, and she doesn't care about looking at one now.

"In front of everybody," he adds when she doesn't answer. "I had a bad feeling."

"It's okay," she says, because it is. She understood it, and now it's over, and it fades in the background compared to everything else. She finds herself pushing Peeta out of her mind, because he isn't here, and though she loves him, her emotions are shot. Overanalyzing isn't in her, right now.

She doesn't want to think about what she feels, for either of them, because all she's got at the moment is the precious comfort of a friend.

"Not really," he retorts, his hand warm on her back. "You can't let me do that."

"Why not?" she says, tonelessly. "Isn't that what you said? 'Why not'?"

"You make me say stupid things, sometimes."

"I don't make you do anything."

And she thinks they're only talking about this because they don't want to talk about the other elephant in the room. This one, somehow, feels safer. Perhaps because the other one would deal with death and endings, while this one is only a futile, dry conversation.

"But you do."

"But I shouldn't."

He grunts, and it sounds like a laugh. "Well…you do," he says lamely.

"I wouldn't if I killed you," she says.

"But you didn't." He says it softly, and she pushes her head harder into his chest.

"But I almost did."

"I'm still here."

"Is it always like this?" she asks. "When things like this happen, do you always almost die?"

He's quiet for a while, thinking. "Not always," he ends up with. "But sometimes. That's why going into scary places isn't so scary anymore."

She thinks about all those years she spent in District 12, while he's been here, walking near the edge of dying. He might have died a year ago, and she wouldn't have known. She wonders how much she would have cared.

"Was it scary, today?"

He smiles. "Terrifying."

"Why?"

"Are you serious?" he asks, shifting a little. "Because of you."

"I didn't kill you, remember?"

"No," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "Because you were there."

"Then why'd you all take me? I could have stayed behind."

He looks down at the crown of her head. "They would have come after you. If we left you alone – "

"Paylor has plenty of workers for her. I could have stayed there."

"But she doesn't trust them as much as the squad. One of the girls would have come to get you, because Atlas wanted you there. This wouldn't have happened if you weren't there." He says it with confident conviction.

Katniss narrows her eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because they knew they would have lost if you weren't there," he says, absently moving his hand up and down her back. "Atlas thought you would have ended all of us."

Katniss swallows. "He thought…"

"He thought you were weak. But you weren't," he says with a smile.

She swallows again. "I wasn't." She exhales deeply. "How do you know all this?"

She feels him move in a shrug. "I don't. I've just been thinking a lot."

She can easily not believe him, but his words ring truer than any thought she's had in the past twenty-four hours.

"I'm glad I didn't kill you," she says after a while. "I think everything would be worse off."

He really laughs this time, though he groans after it. "Yeah, I think having Snow might be a little worse than having me."

She tries to smile, but she can't. "I'm serious. It would have been bad."

"Yeah. Panem would be gone to shit."

She makes an annoyed noise. He grins and says, "I'm pretty sure you'd have killed me a week ago. No question."

She glares at the words, but after a second, she's pretty sure she would have, too.

"Good thing this didn't happen a week ago."

"Peeta would have been pissed," he says in agreement. And Katniss doesn't like how he's acting nonchalant and uncaring.

She sighs, and moves her hand up to when she can feel his bandage under the hospital gown. She feels him go slightly still.

"Does it hurt?"

"Only when I laugh," he says. "Don't crack any jokes."

"Mom said she'd give you medicine to help you heal again." She runs her finger over the length of the bandage, and is disconcerted when it almost reaches across his whole waist.

"She already did. It was almost worse than her other one."

Katniss cringes. "Sorry."

"I'd rather it be me than you." He watches her hand for a second before stopping it with his. "Can you maybe not do that?"

"Oh," she says as he lets go of her hand. "Did I make it hurt?"

He's not going to tell her that he really couldn't feel the pressure of her fingers. It was more the thought of feeling the pressure of her fingers. He sharply exhales out of his nose.

"A little," he lies.

She obediently stops and leaves her hand on top of his upper abdomen. He's not sure which is worse.

After a few minutes of staring at her hand, Katniss moves and glances up to him. He looks back at her. Her wide eyes are all encompassing.

"She wasn't true," she says.

He holds her stare, knows who she's talking about, before answering. "No, she wasn't."

Then she places her head back onto his chest, and she hears it thud faster. She moves her hand up closer to her face, and she notices how the pulse spikes for a second, before calming.

She closes her eyes, and it only takes her a minute to doze off.

* * *

Gale can't make himself leave her.

He knows he needs to get back to Snow's mansion, and he wants to know what they've found, but he can't remember the last time they've been this close together. And he can't force himself to not want this one, silent moment with her body a warm blanket and her hand possessive over his chest.

Then he thinks, fuck the world, because she didn't die, even if he had next to nothing to do with it. Even if he brought her into the mess, like a goddamn idiot.

Her mom walks in an hour or two later, Katniss still dead to the world. Gale immediately stops rubbing her back, his arm falling to the bed.

She smiles over to him, softly saying, "I had a feeling she'd be in here."

Gale half-shrugs. "She ran in here a couple of hours ago. Sorry I didn't call you."

"It hardly matters." She shakes her head, looking at her daughter affectionately. "How're you feeling?"

She's talking about his stomach, but he can't help but want to say, damn great. He lets a smirk grace his face. "Fine."

"It's about time to reapply some medicine. But…" she looks torn.

Gale sighs, but shifts. "I could just move…"

Katniss resolutely follows him, managing to burrow into his chest more. She makes a noise.

"Catnip," Gale starts, going to remove her fingers that she'd moved to his side. "I have to put medicine on."

"Mm.." she answers. "No."

At this, Elaine laughs. "It'll only take a moment, sweetheart."

Katniss cracks an eye open at her voice. "I can do it," She closes her eye again, gets comfortable, and acts like that settles it.

Gale's surprised when her mom walks forward, even though he shouldn't be, and she says, "Will you do it in the next ten minutes?"

"Yes," she answers, looking over to her and holding out her hand. Elaine shakes her head and places the small container into it.

"Okay," she says, stepping back. "And Gale," she says before leaving. "Paylor gave me a message. She said she'd meet up with you tomorrow if you stay here overnight. I can discharge you later tonight, if you'd want. But you can sleep here. Either way, you should be fine."

"Alright. Thank you," he pauses. "Elaine."

She gives him a smile, a wink, then she leaves.

Katniss fiddles with the medicine, now fully awake. Gale gives her an amused look.

"You don't have to actually put that on me if you don't want to."

She gives him a soft glare. "No. I am. You need it."

He rolls his eyes, sighing. "I thought you were trying to be nice."

"I am being nice. Now you don't have to thrash around in front of my mom."

"She's kind of already seen that."

"Whatever," she mumbles, opening the medicine. She looks down at him, and furrows her brows. "Um…how should I…?"

He raises his brow at her. "Well, first, I think you'd have to take this gown off…"

She flushes quickly, but glares and says, "Can't you just untie it and fold it down to your bandage, or something?"

"The tie's behind my back, so…"

She punches his arm. "_Gale."_

He laughs briefly. "You're the one that wanted to help."

She huffs and places the medicine onto the table beside her. "Okay, fine. Can you sit up more?"

He places his palms down beside him, pushing as much as he can. "That's all you're getting."

She leans forward to give him some support. She lets her hands go around him to undo the knot. Gale turns his head away from her, and she tries not to think about how she's technically all wrapped around him, gown as thin as the first time he came after her in one, hands on her hips and prying her mouth open with his.

She's honestly not thinking about that at all.

As soon as the knot's undone, she hurriedly backs off him, putting all her attention on the medicine behind her on the table, while Gale pulls the gown down to his stomach, the bandage a dull white. He goes to lean back onto his up-tilted cot, trying his best to gently pull the tape of the bandage off his skin.

Katniss turns back to him with medicine ready on her fingers, eyes widening at the bruising, meshing with his still faint bruising of his ribs. His abdomen looks like someone spilt grape juice on him. The bullet wound is bigger than she expected.

"Looks nasty," she says.

"Looks worse than it is."

"You say that all the time."

"It's true."

She rolls her eyes and rubs the medicine over his skin, reminiscent of applying it to his ribs, though very much less dramatic. He closes his eyes, and it could be like he's taking a nap.

Except, he really isn't. All of his nerves are on fire. He'd blame the stinging of the medicine, like he did the last time, but he'd be lying out his ass. He can't help but imagine her fingers without medicine, and his skin without bruises, fingers caressing him just because she wanted to.

In light of the day's events – if it was still the same day – was it? – he can't help but want her more. A dangerous, desirous rage darting from her fingertips to his chest and groin and brain.

It doesn't help with the thinness of the gown, hardly any protection from what he could easily do, wounded or not.

After a while, she moves up to his still broken ribs. He gets goosebumps, and he's almost embarrassed because he never gets goosebumps.

"Are your ribs better?" she asks quietly, fingers lingering on them.

"A lot better," he answers gruffly.

"Do they hurt?"

"Not really," he says. "I put a shit ton of anesthetic on them this morning. I still can't feel them."

"Gale," she scolds. "You're not supposed to do that."

"It was a onetime thing."

Especially for today. Katniss lets it go.

"Besides," he continues, fingers now idly drawing lines on him. "The worst should be over, now. I won't need it anymore."

"You might need it."

He produces a noise of neutrality, too distracted by her to pay attention to what she was saying. When she doesn't stop, and when his thoughts take a less than choir boy turn, he reaches out and grasps her hand with his, peeking through his lashes at her.

"You done?"

At this, she flushes, just slightly. "Oh – yeah. Sorry."

When her hand leaves, he immediately regrets it. With the absence, his thoughts take different turn, Katniss suddenly straddling him, knees squeezing his hips, face puckered in stubborn determination.

Except he blinks, and she is straddling him, knees squeezing his hips, face puckered, and what is going on.

"Er, Katniss…"

"I didn't want you to have to try to sit back up again to tie the gown. It's easier. Here – " and she acts like there's nothing wrong here, which is pretty stupid, because Gale's almost sure he's desperately aroused.

She pulls up the gown to his neck, hands finding the loose, thin threads to tie behind his back. She leans forward and reaches behind him, hands folding into the space between his back – which is arching now – and the cushion of the cot. Her chin is teasing his shoulder, and her front is touching every single part of his front – and he's almost certain that she wanted to do this. There is no way she's this oblivious. Can't she _feel _what she's doing to him? He already told her she couldn't do certain things to him. Wasn't she listening? Couldn't she read between the lines?

This is all a recipe for disaster.

His hands instinctively find her hips as she struggles with the tie. And something about this is familiar. Her neck is right by his mouth. And when she's finished, she places her hands on his shoulders right before she pushes herself up enough to look at him.

His lips sting when she stares down at him. He feels a hazy recollection of how hot her mouth is, the silky texture of her tongue – and it's all too sharp to be solely his imagination.

It takes all that he has to say, "Katniss, you should get off."

If she hears any of the threat in his voice, she doesn't show it. And she doesn't move.

The gray of her eyes remind him of thunderheads. He can almost see lightning. The hair on his face prickles.

"Katniss," he repeats, though it's fast in losing the threat factor, and transforming into something heavy and thick.

The hands on his shoulders knead at him, once, and he sighs at the feeling. She's looking at him hard, internally debating, and he needs to push her off him, break this tragic contact between them, because if they stare at each other any longer, he knows they'll spark a fire from the scary lightning in her eyes –

She pitches her head forward a little more, and then she's kissing him, the softness quickly turning fierce. His mind is painted with blankness, his fingers digging into her hips, eliciting a delicate noise from her that speeds its way down into his stomach. The kiss is only pressure from lips, but he wants to make her make more noises, wants to make her keel and mewl and sweat.

She opens her mouth first, tongue sliding roughly into his mouth, and their lips smash together with their teeth. He pulls her tighter against him, wanting to banish all the breath out of her. She squirms against him from the pressure, one of his hands moving up and knotting into her hair – her dark, midnight brown hair that he's always wondered about, braid unraveling in his fingers.

Her breathing is heavy, their open mouths letting every warm thing run between them. She makes another noise not a second later, and it's so sincere and involuntary that he just _loses it._

In one move, he's on top of her, his newly added weight getting her to exhale a moan that he devours, hungry and greedy. Her hands twist into his hair, scratching at his scalp. He growls, and he leaves her mouth briefly, wanting to taste her neck before the moment's over, because when she says his name like that, like,

"_Gale."_

He knows what she's going to say next, and he prepares himself for a push against his chest, for the potentially uncomfortable motions after – because he can't blame morphling this time, and he can't blame anyone except…

Except – and he bites that juncture connecting her neck and shoulder, because she's the one that started this, this time. And it can't all be his fault with how much she's participating, body all warm and alive underneath him.

"I think that – that we – that I – "

And here it comes, he thinks, but he's not going to stop until she says the words. Because they'll hit him like bricks, and he'll have no choice but to listen to her. And preparing has been his way with dealing with things, these days.

"I think – oh, god, I think I want you."

He turns to ice and fire all at the same time. His movements halt, and shock is absorbed into the wound in his stomach like alcohol. He thinks he might be dizzy.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, looking at her. It doesn't help his thinking – her all glassy-eyed with red, ravished lips, hair fanned out like he's dreamed. He almost forgoes talking.

"What?" is all he can manage.

Her throat bobs in a swallow. "You heard me."

Thoughts run a marathon in his mind, so fast he can't process them fast enough. The ones he sees are _What about Peeta?_ And _Why?_ And _If you don't stop you're going to fuck her on a hospital cot._

He needs to ask the first question, but she's a big girl, and she should know what she's doing –and he never much had a soft spot for Peeta's feelings. So he says,

"We keep going, and I will fuck you, Catnip."

He tries to say it lightly, like a joke, but his voice is shot – all hoarse and crazed. She doesn't flinch or act like she's scared – when she should be. It's almost as if she's thought about this. And it makes her so much hotter, in that second. Because what if she has thought about this? What then?

"Maybe you should," she says, and she says it so readily that he's not sure when she actually started to think about _sex_ in a _hospital_ with _him_ – but he doesn't really care, because this probably won't ever happen again. Because she didn't kill him. Because he didn't die. Because next time, he might, and she'll be long gone, back in the safe, home-ready arms of someone else.

And who's he kidding? She's already ruined him for anyone else.

He groans, and he falls back to her, kissing her hard. His hand curls up the hem of her shirt, the other messing with the button of her jeans. One of her hands goes around his back to fiddle with the knot that started it, the other singeing a trail from his neck, to his chest, over his bandage, and he thinks she might – she might grip him through his gown, use her deft-knitting-needle hands to pull him under, make him lose his mind more than he already has.

She just glances over him when he hears the –

"Christ, you guys. Seriously?"

They both still at the same time. Gale turns his head away from her, exhaling a sheepish laugh. Katniss's arms dart back to her sides, embarrassment coloring her face as she tries to squirm away from him as far as she can (which, is maybe two inches).

"Didn't know they'd let you walk around so soon," Gale says as he tries to get off the cot, awkwardly and a bit graceless.

"Yeah, and I didn't know you had enough energy to fuck around already. But whatever," she sneers, but she gives Katniss a raised brow, smile on the border of malicious.

Katniss holds back a groan. That look meant _I-have-things-to-forever-make-fun-of-you-for._ Johanna wasn't, shockingly, the best person for the category of being a friend.

"It was kind of spur of the moment…" Gale trails, finding his clothes on one of the chairs, his shirt bloody and dirty and not considerably wearable. He sighs.

"I was gonna say to get your own room, but you already have one." Johanna smirks like a cat, sassy even though her face is still slightly ashen. Her bandage on her shoulder is halfway to her elbow, but she acts like it doesn't bother her.

"You can't possibly tell me Anton didn't try anything," Gale says, going behind the bathroom door to put on his pants.

"Oh, right, because I wasn't recovering from excessive blood loss."

"I didn't think something that minimal would stop him."

Johanna makes a face, matching it with a noise of disgust. "Stop before you make me throw up all over your bloody pants."

"C'mon Johanna," he says, entering the room with only his pants on, going over to his shirt and deciding to wear it. Better that than a gown. "All of us know you want to screw his brains out."

She raises a brow at him. "Obviously not near as much as you horn-dogs want to go at it. You're lucky I wasn't your mom."

She gives Katniss a pointed look at this. Katniss, during their talking, had been able to pull up and button her jeans – which she hadn't realized had moved down to her mid-thigh – and fixed some of her hair back in a non-mussed braid.

There isn't anything she could do about her lips, or her face. Or the strange hot-cold burning sensations she kept feeling. She shakes herself, in a vain attempt to get rid of them.

"I probably wouldn't have been able to live that down," Katniss mumbles in answer, avoiding Johanna's look.

Johanna laughs at her. "Well, anyway, I was about to go to the mansion and investigate like everyone else, and I was thoughtful enough to drop by and ask if you wanted to join me." She crosses her arms at the silence. "I can still leave."

Katniss automatically catches Gale's eye, but she looks away just as quickly, not ready to face all those after-effect emotions. Not that she had truly seen it being weird and strange between them after this – just a little different. Just like when he kissed her the last time in a hospital. After everything, she didn't think it could really be increasingly unfixable. She just – didn't think. Because it was Gale. And they could only make it uncomfortable between each other if they _tried_ to make it uncomfortable between each other.

At least, somewhere along the line, that's how her mind started to think.

"I'll go," she answers after a moment, looking over to Johanna. Gale answers in agreement, and Johanna looks somehow triumphant.

They leave as soon as they get a confirmed discharge from Elaine.

* * *

a/n; short, but hopefully with enough to chew on.

acuriousreviewer: I'm very glad you said something about my dumb plot holes. Hopefully the next chapter will clear them up once and for all. I meant to clear that up more this chapter, but it didnt exactly happen here. When they get back to the mansion, it'll make more sense. :) I'm sometimes bad about forgetting what I know and what the readers know. Especially with plot. I've never actually had a 'bad guy' plot in anyof my stories ever, but that's not an excuse. So thank you!

Nicole: love that you kind of read that chap from your mom's phone. sounds like something I would do;)

mae: I definitely couldn't help pulling a Mockingjay. I figured it'd be too depressing tofill off the main character and my main muse. ;)

Rebeca: thank you so much! It's definitely gratifying to know that you like this story enough to really think about it. :)

And to everyone else that I didn't get to, thank you, as always. Im staggered by how much response I've been getting, and I lose track of who I've replied to. But I love y'alls words and thoughtful contemplations and enthusiasm. Please know that I read every review. :)


	23. it's a broken smile

a/n; sorry for the huge delay! but it's long. ;)

chapter twenty-three – it's a broken smile

'it's breaking their hearts and breaking their minds' - bite hard, franz ferdinand

* * *

Gale gets Paylor on the phone as they all get in the taxi to take them to Snow's mansion. Katniss sits in between both of them, listening to Gale talk while Johanna tells the driver where to go. She can hear the sharp lull of Paylor's voice, though she can't distinguish anything Paylor says.

Johanna jabs her in the side with her elbow. She raises a brow when Katniss looks at her.

"So, did you mean to shoot Reeva in the back, or were you just being dramatic?"

Katniss blinks. "What?"

Johanna rolls her eyes. "You know. Right before you almost speared Gale's face in. Remember?"

It's hard to tell when the static cleared from her mind. Katniss can only remember clips of things – still shots like a movie. She remembers seeing Gale close his eyes, remembers Atlas disappearing somewhere behind her. She was just as shocked as anyone when Gale wasn't dead.

She wonders how that could be possible, how she could have done things without seeing them.

"No…" she says, eventually. "Not really."

Johanna looks dumbstruck. "Are you sure? Because you shot her right through her chest."

"Oh," she says. "Well I don't - I can't remember that."

She reaches into the depth of her mind, trying her best to remember every thing, but she can't. She wonders what they possibly could've had in that room - what kind of thing that could've locked all of her away, making her act like somebody she didn't know.

It's terrifying. It makes her wonder for a second what would have happened if Prim _was_ real. If she had been right in front of her, or was just a figment. She thinks it doesn't have to be real if she doesn't want it to be. She doesn't have to ask if everyone saw her too. But the truth is that she doesn't want her to be real because if she isn't real, then maybe it wouldn't have had to mean anything. It could've just been a test, and nothing else.

But she'll say it doesn't matter if Prim was real or not because at the end of the day, she is still sister-less, still that inch emptier than she had been, still heart sore and perhaps will forever be. But it will always matter just a little. It will always remain being a splinter under her nail she'll never dig out. She wonders when she'll stop trying to pull it out.

"Well, it's not a big deal," Johanna starts to say, as if backtracking. Katniss hardly notices. "Besides, I hear Paylor's got all kinds of new information on them. And what's left of them. That's what Anton told me."

Katniss nods, but she looks inside herself and can't find it in her to care.

"That's good."

"Will help us, at any rate. I saw it happen, and I'm still confused as hell."

Gale's hung up a few minutes ago, staring out the window. He makes a noise at her statement.

"They were like any other crazy group," he says. "Except more intelligent. It was just misplaced."

"Right," Johanna says, crossing her arms. "And bringing back Snow from death wasn't something Snow had planned all along."

"You really think that's what this was?" Gale says, a little disbelieving, looking over at her. "Snow's final counter?"

Johanna shrugs. "Why not? The bastard had a thing for self-preservation and manipulation. He liked seeing people tear each other apart. All he had to do was find someone crazy enough, loyal enough, and smart enough to actually figure out a way to bring him back." She glares out the car window, opting not to look at either of them. "Just to fuck with all of us. There was no limit of hatred in him. If he saw a chance to do something, something like this, he would have."

Gale's quiet for a while. He can see his reflection through the window. "I don't really believe that he could have had influence beyond the grave, Johanna. What happened earlier wasn't -"

"Wasn't what?" Johanna snaps. "Wasn't real? Of course it was real, Gale. If he had a heart to pump blood to his brain, he might have even been himself."

"We'll never know," Gale says back, his calm tone strained. "So does it even matter?"

Gale looks over to her, and she catches his eye for a second before looking away. And he knows this all effected her more than she's trying to let on. She might hate Snow more than he does. She might be shaken. She might even be scared. And he understands that.

"It's over, Johanna."

She growls out a sigh. "Yeah, yeah. I know." she stares resolutely out to the passing buildings.

They're silent the rest of the way to the mansion.

* * *

They walk up to the mansion as they get out of the taxi, several cars parked around and almost constricting their entrance.

Paylor meets them outside, ending her talk with another officer. She gestures to them, and they walk in the house together.

"So what'd you find?" Johanna starts as they walk through the main hallway.

"His notes - a journal. It tells us more than he ever would have, I'm sure. We also found dismantled weaponry, regenerators, and metals. The man spent his life trying to obtain immortality, even during his employment to Snow."

"What I don't understand is how they were able to keep under the radar so long," Gale says. "How long have they been here?"

"Two years," Paylor says, tersely. Her strides get quicker as they get to the landing at the top of the stairs. "He set up shop here long after we cleaned this place up."

"So?" Johanna says. "Don't some of your people make sure there isn't any extra dust around?"

Paylor cuts her eyes at her, walking into the now opened room. "My people always secured the area twice a month. Routinely checks. Easy to get accustomed to. He was good at covering his tracks when the time came."

People mill about the room, examining the dead bodies of Reeva, Dione, and Atlas. Others are taking pictures of equipment and other items on the tables Katniss hadn't noticed earlier. Some people are coming from the back area pf the room, a place she had no intention of going to see.

"All of his things were in hidden rooms. They were small, so he'd move them in here whenever the scouts looked around." Paylor nods to a few of the people, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. "He was...very meticulous. Cleaned his...things after every use. We haven't found a trace of any skin samples or tissue. We only know from his notes."

Gale glares around the space. "What did you find? If he didn't keep anything from whatever he was experimenting with -"

"He did." Paylor interrupts, her eyes landing on Reeva on the floor, Katniss's arrow still poking out from her chest. "Living experiments. And for some reason, they let him."

"Immortality is a pretty large incentive," Johanna mutters.

Paylor hums. "Not for all of them. He promised each of them very different things. We know for Reeva, he promised her father back, but this was largely his plan to begin with. He didn't care about her wanting Snow back. And Dione," she says, gesturing to her with her head. "He promised to give her power - some kind of frequency imbedded inside her. She could conjure animals, mostly birds, when she wanted. And she could compel minds, brainwash them, if only depending on how bendable the mind she was trying to brainwash was."

Katniss's eyes linger on Reeva's form, blood as red and thick as her hair and her soul.

"And Calypso?" Johanna asks. "What about her?"

"Calypso," drawls Anton, coming up to them with a smirk. "Is just a girl who was trying to find someone to please." He nods to Katniss, face brightening upon seeing her. "Glad you're lookin' better. When I checked on you, you almost seemed to he catatonic."

Katniss cringes. "Really?"

"It wasn't too bad," Anton shrugs, giving her a smile. "I've seen worse." At this he glances pointedly to Johanna out of the corner of his eye. Katniss answers with a small smile of her own while Johanna glares.

"But Calypso," he continues. "The real one - the actual girl with real skin and hair - was locked up in the back room, wading in a tube full of nutrients to keep her occupied. She's weak, but she can still walk around. Atlas was trying to completely convert her into the robot body. Called it synthesis. He wasn't finished with it. By the time Calypso got to the basement, the generator had almost been completely shut off. She was weak. It was still hard to fend off before her energy supply ran out, though." Anton shakes his head. "You'd think the guy would have something more convenient and far-fetched for the girl to run on. Like maybe batteries or something internal and unreachable. She was probably the most vulnerable."

"And the strongest," Gale says, rubbing absently at his wrists. "Maybe that's why he hadn't created something for her. The guy sounds like he had a thing for consequences."

"A type of balance, maybe," says Paylor. "A weight heavy enough to be a burden. He hadn't achieved perfection, in any of the girls or in any of the things he did." She looks to the far side of the room. "I haven't finished looking at his notes, but he hasn't mentioned perfection. He's mentioned falsity, and hope, and despair, but there isn't anything about trying to make someone beautiful."

They are all silent for a few moments, each looking around at something different in their line of sight.

Katniss looks at her boots, not wanting to look at anything in here, because she thinks that maybe...maybe what Atlas had been trying to do was not what Reeva had thought. Immortality seemed like something one would find despair in, but hope as well. Maybe it was something he fed her to keep her at bay. She was dynamite, and Atlas must have known what to say to her to stop her from exploding all the time.

Katniss isn't sure about the other girls. Calypso wanted to appease someone. Maybe she wanted to make them proud - but proud in her. Maybe she never had that, and that was her vulnerability. Something to exploit and work with.

Dione - there wasn't much known about her. But maybe her obsession with power had stemmed from her always being pushed aside. There's always something hidden inside a person who wants power, and either it can be obvious or it can be something else entirely.

"Is Calypso going to live?" she asks, looking to Anton.

He glances up to her. "Last time I saw her, she was awake and responding. She didn't want me to leave, so a nurse let me stay there a while as she ran some tests." He looks a bit thoughtful, and he runs a hand through his hair. "She didn't talk, and the doctors said she might be suffering amnesia. She seemed kind of lost - but I guess being experimented on can do that to a person. But functionality wise, she was okay. And she was a beauty. It won't take her long to get in the swing of things." He grins, then it falters. "If she ever decides to, that is."

They find the robotic Calypso where Anton and Bolts had left it, down in the basement by the generator. The workers had moved it to a spare table in the room, examining it like an autopsy, twisting their fingers in the pliable metal and wiry hair.

"You think she'll be able to live normally?" Katniss whispers askance to no one in particular. Anton is the one to speak first.

"I guess only time will tell with that. But you never know. People have the ability to fool you."

Katniss finds herself wanting Calyso to beat the odds. If there is one good thing to come out of this, maybe it'll be a girl picking up the pieces of her life.

When Paylor starts shuttling them toward the back room, Katniss strays away from them. Johanna is the first to notice, then Gale. They glance at her questioningly, but all she can say is, "I think I'm gonna look around in here."

Johanna gives her a lingering look before nodding at her and turning back. Gale seems to hesitate, but he chooses not to push her.

"If you need anything, Bolts is over their with equipment, okay? and I'm sure Jack's around here somewhere, so..."

"Yeah," she says. "I'll be fine."

"Okay," he answers back, but it takes him a minute to leave her, though she turns away from him hurriedly, not wanting to acknowledge the look in his eyes.

She retreats to a seemingly vacant part of the room, one that doesn't have people running around, one that's away from all the chaos. Some are moving scraps of equipment around, some are placing the bodies in body bags, having gotten all the information they needed. She leans back on the wall before sitting down on the floor, surveying a few things before her, like the white sheet that might contain Snow underneath it, and the area that she was standing when she shot her sister.

It's hard to look at, and she finds that she can't look for long. She averts her eyes after a moment, staring at the fabric of her clothes, playing with a loose thread at the sleeve of her shirt. It's a very plain shirt, she thinks, a dark, neutral gray. If she pulls on that thread, she can undo the whole shirt. It would be as if it never existed, falling into a pile of meaningless strings on the floor.

Prim, in a pile, all wires and strings and synthetic blood (because the blood couldn't be real, could it?) and someone's stolen heart - nonexistent and meaningless.

She sighs, pulling her knees into her chest. Being in this room is suffocating, even if the windows show late afternoon sunlight, the sun filtering through the lightly sprinkled clouds across the sky. Even if the doors are open and there are so many live people springing around. She closes her eyes and breathes into herself, willing her lungs to take in her surroundings. Because if she doesn't get over this now, when will she? She was able to break through the mind block hours ago, somehow, because she had something. Whatever it was, even a glimmer, she must still have it.

She hears someone exhale loudly beside her, dropping into a seat to her left. Her budding annoyance at the person quickly disappears once she hears the voice.

"You know..." he begins. "I've heard that the hardest things life throws at us are ultimately the ones that let us choose how we overcome them. Well, that is, if we choose to overcome them."

Katniss peeks her eyes out from her knees, looking over to him in a fit of surprise.

"Jack?"

He smiles at her, bandages along the lines of his face and his arms. He reaches out a hand and pats her on her arm.

"Don't sound so surprised," he almost laughs. "I've been around the block once or twice. I'm slightly smarter than I look."

Katniss sits up a bit straighter.

"You don't have to console me."

Jack shrugs, glancing out toward the room. "It'd be easy to standby and ignore the emotions going on, I know. A few years ago, I would have. But life is full of trials, Katniss. And you've had plenty. More than I've had, and probably will have. And this," he gestures to everything around them. "You single-handedly told them to kiss your ass. I watched you do it." He grins at her. "You were so strong. That was the girl I admired so much during the war. All the stories I heard about you and when I saw you on the projector screen...you made people have hope and expectations. You even got some people to question themselves and what they could be. It was a dangerous thing, but beautiful, too."

Whether because of her heightened sensitivity or because of her lungs suffocating or because of the slow building of cold sweat she feels, Katniss has to wipe away a loose tear as discreetly as she can. She rubs it off her hand angrily, glaring at the floor.

"Strength only goes so far, I think," Katniss is able to mutter. "There's only so much of it."

Jack's silent for a while, looking at Katniss from the corner of his eye.

"You only have as much as you think you believe yourself to have." Jack hesitates for a minute, rubbing at the corner of his mouth before speaking. "About four years ago, my life was very different. I had a wife and a little girl. I - I'm not going to tell you I was the best husband, and I was far from being the greatest father. I wasn't Bolts, that's for sure." He tries to smile but comes up with a grimace. "But things happen, and I made some bad decisions that I regret, sure. I couldn't live up to what she expected of me, and I couldn't be the man she wanted. I came up short, and shit happens, you know. That's life. It sucks, Katniss, but it doesn't mean we should stop trying." He looks down at a bandage on his arm, messes with the tape around it. "I've learned to stop fighting it, though. I've started to roll with the punches. It's taken some time, but I've even come to enjoy it's chaos, and to not let it consume me. And I've met these guys." He jerks his head toward Bolts, who's the only one in the room with them. "If my life hadn't gone _exactly_ like it had, I'd be nowhere near the Capitol. I'd be in District 5 doing who knows what. And I'd never know them." He laughs. "I'll be man enough to admit that the thought makes me kind of sad." He gives her a look. "But I know that I definitely wouldn't have met you. And that, my dear, is probably the biggest almost-tragedy that I can imagine."

Katniss is not emotional. She'll be the first to admit that she never was or had to be. But she thinks that maybe she's learned more things about herself in this week and a half than she has in most of her life.

She leans over and puts her arms around him in a tight hug. She chokes, "I'm so sorry I haven't been as strong as you thought I was, Jack. I'm sorry that I -"

He stops her before she drowns on her words. "Katniss, have you heard a word I said? I was actually trying to_ tell_ you that it's okay -"

She shakes her head violently. "No, I know. I know. I just...I'm..." She let's him go and sits back, swallowing down all her millions of regrets. "I'm glad I met you, too."

He gives her a smile that really reaches his eyes. "Then I've done my job." He pushes himself to stand, and he crosses his arms across his chest. He narrows his eyes and offers, "You think we can go check out all the dead people before they take them away? You know, reminisce and everything..."

Katniss looks up over to the room, but her eyes linger only on one spot.

"Yeah," she says. "I think I can."

* * *

When Gale walks into the room, he can smell the stench of insanity. It isn't something that he's completely used to, and each odor is different with each person, but it's always the same in that he can' exactly understand it.

He'll be the first to say that it's easy to call a person that you don't understand someone that's insane, sick. Someone unhinged just enough to be considered different from the rest of society.

But Gale has wondered what fueled them to do the things they do. He thinks he partly understands - but his hatred in the war only went so far. Would he have done things like this if he thought it would take down Snow? Maybe, if he was smart enough. But there's a difference between obsessive madness and an all-consuming desire.

Isn't there?

The room holds many posted pictures, some colored, some black and white from security cameras. They contain all three different girls in different places. He has hand-written notes posted by the pictures, some with question marks and some with words that hint at meeting with them. Paylor mentions something about him finding the right girls that he wanted. Specifically girls - no men.

"Was there a reason for that?" he asks, looking at the photos.

"He thought that women would be more aggressive and passionate with what he wanted to do," Paylor says. "I think loyalty was an aspect as well. He picked out these girls because of their problems with family. Reeva and Snow, as Snow left Reeva's mother pregnant, just like however many women he left like that, and growing up illegitimate took it's toll on her. Calypso and her father, who was a very cruel man. According to Atlas, he was never satisfied with any of her accomplishments, leading to her compulsive need to please. And Dione, who's father died in an armed robbery. With his life spent on the run, he never gave her all the attention that she needed. Or wanted."

"So he wanted to be their fill-in father?" Johanna asks, voice laced with skepticism as she taps his desk. "He didn't seem to have that much compassion for them as he watched them, you know, die."

"He knew they'd be expendable?" Gale guesses, before he chokes on his own spit, looking at a picture of himself.

Anton looks over to him, raising a brow. "You okay?"

Gale clears his throat. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised, but..."

"Oh, so you found your picture," Anton says, an almost misplaced grin on his face. He walks up beside Gale, arms crossed and rocking back on his heels. "You had an admirer."

"Is that what it's called?" Gale mumbles, rolling his eyes.

"He did want to kill you. He must have seen something in you to be so serious in taking you out."

"Yeah," Gale answers. "My heart."

Anton looks at him. "That's what he wanted, huh?"

"He wanted to put mine in his remade Snow," Gale can't help but say with some disgust. "Apparently, no one else had what he wanted."

"He probably picked you out because you were passionate," Paylor says, coming around to them. "You can be pretty rebellious, too. He didn't want you around while he put his master plan into action."

"Makes sense," Johanna says, picking up one of his haphazardly used journals. "You were pretty vocal in the war. And he did say he liked irony. Why not put your life into the man you hated most?"

Anton smiles wryly. "All the more reason to thank your Catnip, right?"

"I think he already did," Johanna smirks.

"Oh, really?"

"If he didn't, he was _very_ close."

Gale sighs a growl, glaring at both of them. Paylor clears her throat.

"We'll have time for conversation later," she says, much to Gale's relief. "For now, I've sent the more technical notes with the forensic and science teams. Looking over them, I couldn't understand the mechanics with how he created...clones. Most of the regenerative properties were old news, but using DNA samples from dead bodies to bring them back went over my head."

Anton nods. "Yeah. I tried reading them, but he wrote it in a way I'm sure only he'd be able to understand. He drew out some genome structures, very similar to blueprints for a house or architecture. A lot of schematics. I think he was building back both Prim and Snow's DNA from the certain samples, whatever they were, that he had. They could have been partials, considering he had to try to build them again."

Johanna comes around to him, looking at the page in the journal over Anton's shoulder. "Looks like he's done this more than once."

"He's had to. There wasn't any room for error, if there ever _was_ room, working for Snow."

"I guess not," Johanna muses. "Working for that sonva bitch taught the guy something, at least."

"Sure," Anton says, slipping out of Johanna's proximity. "You make a mistake, you die. A good thing he _made_ one."

Gale doesn't miss the look Johanna has, watching Anton step away from her. "Yeah," she says slowly. "I guess we all could have died."

"You'd probably be the first," he says lightly, almost laughing from the evil eye she gives him. "I'm not there for five minutes, and half your shoulder's blown to hell."

Johanna grunts. "You can thank Reeva for that."

"Too bad she's dead." Anton rubs at his chin. "Come to think of it, I never did get to tell her goodbye."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Jackass."

"So how did he get all of his equipment?" Gale asks after a moment, looking over a few microscopes that litter the edges of the room. "A lot of this is pretty high-tech."

Paylor makes a noise. "Most of it was salvaged from the aftermath of the war. He was somehow able to find a way to secure it all away into whatever makeshift housing he had besides this place." She shakes her head. "A few things he's made himself."

"You mean he's an engineer, too?" Anton says, incredulously, walking over to examine what looks like a high-voltage electric gun. "Maybe that's not surprising, but this guy...was there anything he couldn't do by himself? Bolts would be impressed with this shit. Hell, I'm impressed with this shit."

"He is," Paylor deadpans. "He's been out there for hours checking this stuff out. But other than himself, he hasn't mentioned friends or any type of social circle besides Snow and the girls. He was a loner by nature, as with most mad scientists."

Such an unfettered mind could have put his talents to use in something other than...well, other than resurrection. But Gale can't help the undulating relief that he's no longer a threat.

The guy had it coming, anyway. Play with fire, and you'll surely get some type of burn. Gale has definitely got experience to prove it.

"And I thought I couldn't hate this place anymore," Johanna sneers, looking around at all the paraphernalia, distaste coating her tongue.

Gale couldn't agree with her more.

* * *

After spending a good hour looking over the important files and equipment, the group rounds up together and heads downtown to Eddie's, much to Katniss's surprise. When she asks why, Anton shrugs and says, "It's tradition. When we get to take down a group, especially one that's been giving us trouble for more than a week, we celebrate. Wind down."

"Not the most conventional, but who the fuck cares?" Jack grins. "The world is safe for one more night."

"Everything we found will be waiting for us tomorrow," Bolts agrees, looking his actual age in the moment.

They get a couple of taxis, splitting off in groups. Paylor stays back and tells them she's going to continue her work there at the mansion, but Jack and Johanna have none of it.

"C'mon, Paylor, you're the president. You're allowed to take an hour break," Jack complains.

"It's true. These guys can take care of themselves for a few minutes," Johanna agrees, crossing her arms. "You've been here all day. Take a breather."

Paylor isn't swayed. She stands her ground. "I don't have time for breathers," she says. "I need to see this through. I can meet you at Eddie's later."

"But Paylor - " Anton starts, but is immediately silenced by her glare.

"I still have things I need to take care of, here and at the office. And I need to make sure it gets done right. So," she says, looking at all of their unconvinced faces. "When I'm done, I'll join you. Until then." And before anyone can stop her, she turns on her heel and walks back toward the entrance of the mansion.

Bolts sighs at her retreating form, Jack crossing his arms.

"She always gives some kind of excuse. It's like she doesn't want a life besides cleaning up the Capitol."

Johanna shrugs. "We've already tried to tell her to make more squads. It's not our fault she wants to do everything single-handedly."

"Well," Bolts says, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. "I don't blame her. It's been a rough couple of years for her. And it's the way she's been dealing with it..."

"It's taken long enough to get her to like me. Who knows how long it'll be until she actually listens to what I have to say about what she does," Gale says, partly smiling. "Let's not worry about her too much. We're off duty."

Katniss ends up riding with Gale and Jack, the other taxi holding Johanna, Anton, and Bolts. It doesn't take long to arrive at Eddie's, nor does it take long for all of them to fall into their regular, newly replaced, table near the back wall. Katniss guesses she shouldn't be surprised that she isn't banned from the bar for all the damage she caused - mostly because Reeva had been apprehended by Paylor herself - but she is.

Once they get settled in, Johanna inquiries, "So Bolts, what exactly happened in the basement? All this one," she says, jamming her thumb toward Anton, "talked about was Calypso."

"I don't remember you asking about the details," Anton says lethargically, tone coming out in a drawl. Katniss notices that they're sitting beside each other this time, though the space is still there, between them. The slither of bar air that Katniss is almost positive Johanna doesn't want. But she's mostly guessing. After the events of today, she's exhausted from all the emotions she had been able to feel. Especially the desperation. The inexplicable need to feel the comfort to block out all the other cumbersome feelings she didn't want to have.

She glances at Gale, and she wonders if he knows. If he knew that that's what she wanted. Because that was what she wanted, desperate and alone and kind of empty, kissing him on that hospital cot. She bites her lip and looks back to the rest of the group.

Bolts clears his throat. "I guess you already know about the generator," he starts. "It was pretty massive. It took up about half the space in the basement. We both didn't know what it was for, but we figured something this big underneath Snow's mansion can't be for anything good while all of us were in there. So we decided to shut it off for precaution."

Jack gives him a look. "How long did it take you to deactivate it."

At this, Bolts smiles. "About seven minutes, more or less."

"Seven!" Jack exclaims. "The fastest I've ever dismantled a generator was ten."

Bolts' smile evolves to a grin. "That's why you aren't the best."

"Listen to you, Bolts," Johanna laughs. "I didn't know you could be cocky."

"He's got a right to be," Anton says. "You should've seen the guy work. Not a second too late, either. Calypso came barging through like she owned the place. I thought she was gonna explode when she saw us messing with the generator."

"She sucker punched you pretty good, didn't she Ant?"

Anton takes a drink, and Katniss isn't sure if his wince is from the alcohol or the memory. He rubs at his chest gingerly and groans. "At least five times. You are so damn lucky she wasn't interested in you, Bolts."

"She would've been if you weren't so distracting, I think," Bolts laughs.

Anton scratches the back of his head, and he looks surprisingly embarrassed. "She ran after you a few times. You were still pretty good at fighting, though, I've gotta admit."

Bolts half-shrugs, though Katniss thinks it's carefully nonchalant. "I've still got it," Bolts says, grinning. "It's been awhile since we've fought, but I haven't gotten any worse."

Anton raises a brow. "Is that a challenge, Bolts?" He shows his teeth in a sly smile. "I don't want to explain any injuries to your wife..."

Bolts hums, a deep, gruff sound. "I think you'd be in worse shape than I."

Jack makes a loud ooooo noise. "This is going down, everyone."

Katniss leans over, whispering to Gale, "Is Bolts really that good at fighting?"

Gale smirks at the question, whispering back, "He actually taught Anton a lot of what he knows. The rest of us, too."

"Really?" Katniss can't help but ask, a bit incredulous. She looks over to Bolts - he has the build of a fighter, though the peppering of his hair combats the idea of imagining him doing kick flips around the room.

Gale looks amused at her reaction. "These guys have a few surprises. But Bolts has a lot of experience."

At Jack's noise, Johanna rolls her eyes and shoves Anton slightly. "Don't be stupid, Anton."

He looks at her, eyes glinting with subdued anger. "At least I'm not about to run at a gun."

Johanna narrows her eyes, her back straightening like a struck rod. "At least I killed a damsel instead of saving one."

Anton laughs shortly. "What, did I hurt your feelings because I wasn't at the hospital _just_ for you?"

Johanna hides it the best she can, but Katniss is surprised by how she can read her. She's got a subtle play of confliction running across the lines of her face, and Katniss knows what it's like. But she's also got another look on her face, and if Katniss can read it right, it seems like a strain of sadness.

And she thinks, maybe Anton _did_ hurt her feelings.

Johanna's quiet just a second too long to save herself with a quick, sharp quip. But she's able to come up with something.

"Don't kid yourself," she says, though its weaker than normal Johanna fashion. A flash of fear shimmers across her countenance, and Katniss thinks its because she feels caught. And when has Johanna ever been caught to truly care too much? Katniss hasn't seen it up close before, probably not like Gale has, and Katniss thinks that Anton hasn't seen it before, either. Not the soft gaze, cushioned care that she surely has. She might even have too much of it, and the fear justifies that. But Anton is very experienced with the tough luck, hard love wrecking ball she conceals herself in.

So he's slow on noticing that she showed him something largely significant, if he notices at all.

Katniss glances around and looks to Jack, who's smiling against his drink glass, and Bolts, who's acting like he's not paying attention when he so obviously is. Katniss looks at Gale, and he matches her look, rolling his eyes and whispering in her ear, "They've been dancing around each other for months. It gets hard to watch after a while."

Katniss frowns. "Have you ever said anything?"

Gale makes a face. "They never listen to what I say, anyway, Johanna especially. I don't think anything I can say about this would change much."

"So you've never tried?"

Gale looks at her for a while, so close to her that she can feel the warmth of his arm, now dangling on the back of her chair.

"No," he finally says. "Because they need to make their own decisions. I'm not great at advice." He smiles a little. "At least, not for this."

His implication makes her stomach deflate. She shrinks away from him a few inches.

"Gale, I should..."

He shakes his head at her. "You don't have to say anything. This can be hard...but they'll fess up eventually. I think Johanna is going to pretty soon, so it's nothing to worry about -"

"I wasn't going to talk about them, Gale," Katniss blurts, unable to stop herself. "I was...Well..." she hesitates and starts again. "In the hospital -"

"What the fuck?" Jack says, looking toward the entrance, his tone gathering everyone's immediate attention. Katniss follows his gaze to the front of the room, eyes widening at the sight of Paylor, looking more angry than annoyed, pulling along a pretty girl by the arm. Two men with government uniforms stand at the door, watching with a bored passiveness, arms crossed, giving off waves of intimidation.

She marches to a stop in front of their table, glaring at all of them, gaze falling heavy on Anton.

"She," Paylor says, jerking the girl. "Was found walking around Snow's grounds, in a hospital gown, mumbling about _home_."

Her voice has a strained crescendo behind it, and of Katniss was Anton, she'd admit that she'd be getting scared.

"I gave_ you_ the responsibility to make sure she was taken care of in the hospital and that she _remained_ in the hospital."

Anton holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I did. They ran tests, asked her questions, ran a CAT scan, and told me she had amnesia, possibly severe, was slightly undernourished, but was healthy besides that. They told me she needed rest, and would be watched over for a few days. They didn't say _anything_ about her being released."

The girl's had a confused face until her eyes landed on Anton. She brightens instantaneously, slipping out of Paylor's grip before Paylor's regains her hold.

"I know you!" she exclaims, pointing her finger at him and smiling.

"Er, yeah, you do," Anton says uncertainly.

"You're the one that saved me." Her eyes glaze on him.

"Not...exactly," Anton says, laughing a little.

Paylor sighs. "She has no family, and she doesn't know anyone besides you," she says. "She said your name a few times, and I don't have the time to take care of her, so," Paylor finishes, "Readmit her."

"Shouldn't we just lock her up?" Gale says, looking at the girl warily. "She _did_ almost kill me. And she stole stuff."

Calypso's eyes widen at the accusation. "I did what?"

Paylor purses her lips at him. "Amnesiacs are a different case. They have to be rehabilitated first."

"Yeah, but once she gets back to normal, she'll be just as crazy as she used to be," Johanna says disdainfully. "I don't think I agree with your assessment, Paylor."

"That isn't necessarily true. If the environment is different, she doesn't have to choose what she did the first time around." Paylor narrows her eyes at Johanna. "And you don't have to agree with me, but you'll have to accept it."

Johanna rolls her eyes and sighs. "Whatever."

Paylor let's go of Calypso, who looks around, eyes vacant and lost, though she looks at Anton with hope.

"Take her to the hospital once you're done celebrating," Paylor scoffs. "I'll be at my office." Then she turns on her heel and leaves.

The group stares at each other, then to Calypso, who's standing by the table, looking uncomfortable and isolated.

Jack clears his throat, then rubs at his head. "So, uh, can someone repeat what Paylor just did?"

"I think if I did, it'd break your brain," Bolts says, laughing at Jack's answering face.

Anton grumbles, going to stand. "Alright, Calypso. Let's get you back -"

She takes a step back, saying, "Why does everyone call me that? My name is Natalie."

"Natalie, huh?" Jack smirks, eying her.

She gives him a dubious look. "Yes..."

"Jack," Bolts says warningly. "She's just getting her footing."

"Calm down, old man," Jack waves. "I can't help myself when a girl's as pretty as she is."

Natalie looks at him, then down to the ragged, old government uniform Paylor had somehow scrounged up for her. She doesn't look like she believes him.

"Okay, Natalie, then," Anton says. "Let me take you back to the hospital -"

"No," she says hurriedly, eyes bugging out. "I hate that place. I don't know why, but it gives me a terrible feeling. The tubes and the needles and the...and the heart rate monitor and the wires - so many wires." Her breath starts to speed up, and she starts to claw at her forearms, nails too blunt to cut through her skin. "Please don't take me,_ please._"

"Whoa, whoa," Jack says, going to stand and holding up his hands. "There's no need to hurt yourself, now."

She looks between Jack and Anton, fear and distrust laced all around her.

"Miss Natalie," Bolts says, his tone deep and fatherly. Her eyes dart to him. "You're going to have to go back to the hospital eventually. But how about you calm down and sit with us for a while?"

She looks around to everyone, as if waiting for a protest. When she doesn't get one, she asks, "Did I try to kill you, too?"

At this, Bolts laughs heartily, and Natalie gives a hint of a smile at the sound.

"Not really," he tells her. Then he looks over to Anton, who's still standing. "Why don't you pull up a chair for this young lady, Anton?"

He gives Bolts a look, but complies. "Sure," he trails, sighing and grabbing a chair from an unused table, wedging it between him and Jack. Natalie cautiously walks around to it and sits.

"Thank you…" she says. "Um…Mister…"

"My name's Dirk, but you can call me Bolts."

"Bolts…" she tries, taking up as little room as possible in between the boys. "Okay."

It's silent for a moment, and Katniss fidgets, blurting, "I'm Katniss."

Then Gale follows, along with Jack. It takes a second for Johanna to cave and introduce herself, too, though she looks a bit disgruntled. Katniss can't blame her – first Reeva, now, well, Natalie.

It all happens just as easily as it had when Katniss had first met the squad. Bolts and Jack fall into an effortless grace of telling Natalie about themselves and what they do. They both talk to her openly with smiles, as if not to scare her or break whatever stability she has left.

Anton joins momentarily, and Katniss can't help but notice how Natalie looks at him. She holds a lot of interest in her eyes, and the hope she had when she first walked into the bar and saw him is still lingering. Johanna's noticed this, too, and Katniss is close enough to see how agitated she seems to be – and being one-hundred percent Johanna, isn't trying very hard to hide it. And suddenly, there's a bizarre triangle that's formed in the last five minutes.

Katniss nudges Johanna with her elbow, gaining her attention. Katniss rolls her eyes at her, and she says, "If it makes you that mad, do something." Then she glances toward Anton.

Johanna's face immediately hardens. "Don't even try to tell me what to do."

"I'm not," Katniss frowns. "I'm just saying you won't be happy until you do."

Johanna raises a brow. "What do you know about being happy?" She scoffs. "Oh, that's right, _nothing."_

"Johanna – "

"Look, I _am_ happy." Her face just asks Katniss to challenge the statement. "And I'm content with this."

Katniss glances over to Natalie, who's laughing at something Anton and Jack are saying – it reminds Katniss a lot of what she must have looked liked once she warmed up to them. How it was so easy to be swallowed up by these people, and how she liked it.

Katniss bites the meat of her tongue, looking back to Johanna, taking a chance with her words. "But Anton might not be. And I don't think he likes being disappointed all the time." She thinks back to what he said about his family – how uncomplicated it seemed to be for him to let them go and move on and how his grief, though maybe brief, was still with him, but how he let it be free from the cage of his heart and his mind. He smiles too easy, just like how Jack smiles too easy, and Katniss thinks it's because of that. She glances up to Johanna thoughtfully. "He'll let you go," she says, knowing backing up her words. "If he hasn't already."

Johanna looks at her, and it's a slow motion circle of the wrecking ball, then the flicker of fear, then the conflicting emotions, all the way to her shell again. She glares at her.

"Good," she answers. "If he's finally got it through his thick skull that I don't want him, and that I'll never _have_ him, then maybe he's finally grown up." She turns away from her and finishes off her drink roughly, standing and taking the glass with her up to the bar. Katniss watches her, wishing for a moment that Johanna's stubbornness wasn't such a crippling side effect to her personality.

Anton glances beside him to Katniss. "What's up with her?"

Katniss tries to give him an obvious look, but partially thinks it's worthless.

"Guess."

Anton looks annoyed. "If she thinks I'm going to follow her, then – "

"She doesn't," and Katniss is surprised when Gale speaks up this time. Mostly because he hasn't spoken much at all since Natalie's arrival, but moreso because he obviously listened in to her and Johanna talking.

She's not sure why she's so surprised by that.

Anton gives Gale a look, and Katniss feels the immediate burn of rivalry. The rivalry that they've probably always had. But it feels different, different than the jealous rivalry the last time Anton looked at Gale like this. It's more brittle, more beaten down – to the point where it almost seems lost. Maybe it's because Gale and Johanna had something that Anton never will, or maybe it's because of the fact that Johanna chose Gale and never chose Anton, and while she's running away to the bar, she still isn't turning to run to him.

"What's wrong?" Natalie asks, once she turns back to Anton, noticing his grimace. He gives one look at Johanna, then he turns to her and says, "Nothing." And they continue talking about whatever it was from before.

Gale exhales deeply, warm breath tickling her ear as he says, "I told you trying to talk to them wouldn't do anything."

She turns her head further away from him. "I wanted to try."

"I'm sure Johanna's up there, thinking about it," he says, shrugging, and it's a little reassuring.

She glances at him, deciding to change the subject. "You haven't talked to her much, yet."

He twirls his beer around on the old wood of the table. He stares at it while he messes with it. "Natalie?" he makes a noise. "I don't really care about making small talk, even if she isn't Calypso."

Katniss looks over to the girl, incredibly pretty even though she's lived in a tube for at least a week or two.

"I kind of wish Paylor didn't bring her here," Katniss admits after a while, finishing her drink. She looks down into the crystal of the glass. "She's a constant reminder, you know?"

"Yeah," Gale laughs lightly. "Her voice makes my ribs hurt." He shifts in his seat. "I don't care if she's amnesiac or not. I think I'll always be paranoid about her."

"Do you think they are, too?" Katniss asks, gesturing to Anton, Jack, and Bolts. "I mean, they don't seem to be…"

"They are," Gale says. "They just hide it better than I do."

Katniss watches them for a while, trying to find, perhaps futilely, anything malicious about Natalie. She doesn't notice anything.

"Want another one?" Gale asks her, gesturing to her empty glass. She hesitates for a second, then tells him sure.

The conversation lulls when Gale's gone, and Natalie catches Katniss's eye. Katniss gives her an uncertain smile. Then Natalie looks around at the rest of the group, hesitating.

"Can you all…tell me about what I did? Or what happened?"

They all glance at each other, silent for an undecided moment, before Bolts says, "I don't think it'd be wise to tell you anything. And to be honest, we didn't really know you as a person."

"Yeah," Jack agrees. "Sorry doll, but you're going to figure most of those things out for yourself."

"But can't you tell me something?" she asks pleadingly. "Anything."

Anton gives first. "You were hell bent on pleasing people. Or - someone."

"…what did I do?"

"You really wanna know?"

All their heads turn to Johanna, who places herself in her vacant seat beside Katniss, her drink glass newly filled, looking hard at Natalie. Natalie matches her stare.

"Yes."

Johanna shrugs, ignoring everyone's wary glances. Gale takes his seat by Katniss, handing her the drink.

"Well, you let yourself become a robot for a psychopath, for starters."

"Johanna…" Bolts warns. "I don't think this is the time."

Johanna gives him a steely look, but Natalie says, "No. I want her to tell me."

"Good choice," Johanna says to her, giving her a mocking smile. "Getting the truth is always so much better than being in the dark, don't you think?" She doesn't wait for Natalie to answer, the question more rhetorical than serious. "So, does the name Atlas ring a bell?"

Natalie's face contorts. "I remember a Murphy…and a Daniel. But not an Atlas."

Johanna purses her lips, saying, "I guess you're still living in the past. But long story short, Atlas had a daddy-complex. He let you believe he loved you if you did whatever he said. So you did. And you almost killed a few of us, but that's okay, because you _obviously_ weren't in your right mind."

"Johanna, stop," starts Anton, but she ignores him, looking into the foggy eyes of Natalie. Katniss isn't sure if she should say anything, and looks to Gale, who merely shrugs and mutters, "She's going to say whatever she wants." Jack and Bolts have the same kind of defeated look to them. Katniss sighs.

"So you almost became a complete toy for him," she continues. "Almost completely losing your mind for him, but we inadvertently got there in time to stop you. The only side effect is your memory loss, but I'm sure that'll come back in the mental institution you're bound to go to."

"Oh…" Natalie barely breathes out, trying her best not to cry. "Thank you…for…for telling me." She tries to smile toward the guys around her. "I know they wouldn't have."

Johanna rolls her eyes. "Of course they wouldn't have. They're a bunch of suckers for pretty girls." She gives Natalie a daring look. "You should cry. None of them will know what to do."

At this, Natalie gives a short laugh, swiping at her eyes quickly. "You know, I was…am…a good person. Or, I thought I was. I remember a lot of good things – I," then she stops, going to look back to Johanna, who looks bored and extremely passive.

"Did I try to kill you?" Natalie asks her.

Johanna smirks. "No. But one of your bitch sisters took out half my shoulder."

Natalie's face scrunches. "Sisters?"

Johanna rolls her eyes again. "I'll let you figure that one out by yourself."

Natalie glances around at everyone, looking exactly the same as she did when she arrived – uncomfortable and misplaced. She hunches in on herself, and she opens her mouth a few times, finally landing on her words.

"I'm…sorry if I tried to kill one of you, or if…" she trails. She shakes her head, looking down to the table. "I'm sorry." Then she looks to Anton and then to Jack. "Can someone take me to the hospital, now?"

Anton goes to stand up, but Jack stops him.

"I'll take you," he says, nodding to Anton. "I think it'd be best if you stayed here."

Anton gives him a confused look, watching as Jack is about to leave with her. Katniss catches Jack's eye, and he winks at her, pulling out his phone to call a cab. And Katniss wonders if he's going to recycle his story to Natalie when he escorts her. If, maybe, this had been his plan as soon as Paylor brought Natalie in, all annoyed and stressed.

Natalie looks over everyone before saying goodbye, eyes lingering a second on Anton. Then she looks at Jack, thanking him.

He waves her words away. "It's your decision," he tells her. "Besides, the guy you want is already taken."

Anton's eyes narrow at Jack's words, and he grabs a sugar packet from the container in the middle of the table, throwing it at him. Jack chuckles at him, shrugging knowingly. Katniss glances to Johanna, who's averting her gaze from everyone, grimacing over to the couples dancing to the band in the corner of the room.

Natalie smiles a little, glancing at Jack and at the tattoos on his arms. "Ah," she says, as if she already had it figured. "Do you think I'll ever see any of you again?"

Jack grins at her. "As long as you're not crazy." He opens the front door for her, and then they're gone.

Katniss stares at the door for a minute, before turning back to the table. She imagines, maybe for a second, Natalie working behind the bar, serving drinks and being normal. It's...kind of nice, imagining something normal.

"Paylor has the weirdest timing," she hears Johanna mutter after a moment.

Katniss glances to Jack's now vacant seat. She thinks for a second and furrows her brows, looking at Gale.

"Did you know Jack had a wife?"

He looks at her, surprised for a second, then smiles just slightly.

"Her name was Rebekah." His lips thin into a line. "I think she's the reason he started to smoke."

_Rebekah,_ she thinks.

"He said he had a daughter, too."

Gale narrows his eyes in thought, glancing at his beer. "He sees her at least once a year."

"What's her name?"

"He's never told me."

Katniss looks down at her drink.

Anton and Johanna remain silent in their seats. After a few minutes, Bolts stands and says he's going home to see Joy.

"Don't know if I should tell her about today's adventure," he says, half-smiling.

"Maybe it could wait a few days," Gale says, laughing.

"Maybe so." And as he turns to leave, Katniss has an immediate, impulsive thought.

"Bolts," she says, stopping him. He looks at her warmly. "Did…who grabbed my neck when I shot…"

She can't finish the sentence, but from his eyes, he knows what she's talking about. She rubs at her bruises, regardless.

His gaze lingers on her, frowning before he says, "Nobody."

Katniss stares at him, pushing on her neck to feel the pain there.

_Nobody._

Her hand falls from her neck. "Oh," she breathes, not knowing what else to say.

Bolts nods at her, giving her a tight smile. Then he waves while the rest of the table tells him goodbye.

Gale looks at her questioningly, glancing at her neck. "You thought someone tried to choke you?"

Katniss shakes her head at him. "No. I think I made it up. A lot of things were happening."

Gale reaches out to touch her neck, and she flinches at his contact, shying away from it. He drops his hand slowly, giving her a funny look.

"I can't see any bruising," he ends up saying.

"Like I said," she says, evading his eyes. "I probably imagined it."

He doesn't look convinced, but he backs off, though he remains looking at her. She's almost certain that he knows that she's lying. But he doesn't call her out on it, and instead, he says, "Do you think we should leave them alone for a while?"

Katniss glances over to Johanna and Anton, both staying painfully and resolutely quiet. She's shocked when Johanna speaks up first.

"Where did she punch you?"

Anton smirks a little at this. "The chest and stomach. I'm surprised nothing broke."

Katniss looks at Gale. "Maybe after a minute."

He laughs. "Okay."

"You mean the great martial artist couldn't take on a robot?" Johanna asks sarcastically.

"She was pretty quick," he shrugs. "And she fought to kill. She was actually kind of scary."

"Sorry I couldn't save you," Johanna sing-songs, slightly mocking. "I was taking care of my own business."

Anton looks at her for a while. "So I heard. How's your shoulder?"

"Can barely move my left arm," she grumbles. "But it's fine."

Anton reaches up to touch the bandage on her shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to her and saying, "You know why Paylor never pairs us up, don't you?"

Johanna resists him, moving her head away from him.

"Everyone knows why, Anton."

"There's a cut on your face."

"Probably from a crow," she whispers.

Anton leans forward a little more, hesitating just slightly, then kisses the bandage on her cheek.

"Anton…" she says, her voice sounding more affected than she probably wants it to be. "Don't."

He exhales. "Alright, Johanna. You win. Say that again, and I'll never touch you."

She scoffs. "You know that's not true."

He gives her a hard, serious look. "I swear." He peels his hand off her shoulder. "I can stop. You know I can."

Katniss can't quit looking at them, even when Gale nudges her and tells her they should probably give them some privacy. But it's not like they notice they're sitting near them, anyway. Katniss gives him a look before turning back to them.

"And _you_ know I have to say it."

Anton gives her a crooked smile. "You always act more complicated than you are."

She looks at him, eyes falling to his semi-solemn smile. "Sorry I'm kind of messed up."

He gazes at her for a moment, then he removes his hand from her completely, dropping his elbows to the table, gaining that space between them again. He finishes his drink, pushing up from the table to stand.

Johanna panics, and Katniss hasn't seen it before. "I haven't said it."

Anton looks down at her, and there's something inherently sad as he says, "You don't have to."

He starts to walk around the table, and he strides to the direction of the exit.

Katniss keeps staring, feeling her mouth going slack, watching the defeated back of Anton as he leaves. Then back to Johanna, who seems struck, to Gale, who's scratching at his jaw, wincing when he catches Katniss's eye.

She looks back to Johanna, opening her mouth to say something, but Johanna mutters a, "fuck," and darts out of her seat, easily catching up to Anton before he's halfway across the bar. She grips his arm, forcing him to turn around, and his raised brow is clearly visible.

Johanna says something to him, before tilting up and kissing him. She brings her good arm around to his neck, and he puts his hands on her hips - and Katniss can't help but sigh and smile, because these two can be happy, if they want. Johanna never had anything to fear about this, especially after today, but she did. Because today made Katniss give in, too. It made her do crazy things, like kissing Gale and almost having sex with him -

But as they unashamedly embrace in the middle of the bar, Katniss knows she can be happy for them, and she holds onto it, because she knows what she's about to tell Gale is going to break his heart.

"Well," Gale says, laughing. "I'm pretty sure this bar has seen everything, now."

"I didn't think she was going to do it."

"Yeah," Gale agrees. "I think she surprised herself, too."

"Aren't you glad I made you stay?" Katniss asks. "We would have missed that."

"Jack is going to be so pissed he didn't see it."

Katniss takes a breath.

"Do you think Natalie is going to be okay?"

Gale looks up at her at the question. He half-shrugs. "Depends on what she wants to do, I think."

Katniss taps at her glass, hearing the _clink clink_ against her fingers.

"Gale," she says, dreading it. But she can't back out now. "I need to tell you something."

His eyes are sharp on her before he sighs. She forgets how quick he can be. "Is this going to be about what happened in the hospital? Because if it is..."

Katniss avoids his gaze. "Well, kind of..."

Gale sighs, and his good mood seeps out of him. He thinks he knows where this is going.

"I don't regret it," he says.

"...I know," she says after a moment. "But - do you remember that time, during the war, when we were in District Thirteen and I kissed you, and you stopped me because you said - "

"If you're blaming your actions based on what happened today," he interrupts her. "On Prim and on Snow and on everything, I understand that. But I don't think you believe that."

It's Katniss's turn to level a glare at him. "I do believe that, Gale, because I _needed_ that comfort. I was selfish and you were right there, and you were alive, and - "

"So, what?" he asks, laughing humorlessly. "If I was someone else, would you have done the same thing?" He feels his old anger, threatening to boil in his veins. "Did you imagine Peeta lying there, instead of me?"

"Of course not!" she shrieks. "I just...I needed you then, but it doesn't mean," she stops herself before finishing, thinks better of it, and continues, not able to look him in the eye. "It doesn't mean that I'll _always_ need you, Gale." Her throat suddenly narrows. "I just left everything, less than two weeks ago, for something I didn't even understand. And now, after five years, I think I finally understand all of what I lost. Because I lost it again, today." She shakes her head. "This isn't just about you, Gale. It never was. But you were here, and you took care of me, and so did the squad, sometimes. You felt what I felt, and you got caught up in it, too. And I learned who I was again - I didn't think I'd ever have to, but I did."

And Gale knew that - knows it. Knew it since the beginning. It was never about them. He's told himself that over and over, a sick kind of mantra, but it doesn't change how it effects him now. It doesn't change what he feels - what he's always felt. Nor does it change what he'll always want.

He tries to reign back his anger, and it leaves him with the aftertaste of disappointment, and a nasty dose of sadness. But he's felt this before, and he can take it. It helps that he's slightly buzzed.

"I know," is all he can say. "I, uh..." He looks off into the recesses of the bar. He's not really sure what he's going to say. He clears his throat. "So when are you leaving?"

Katniss wills him to look at her, but he doesn't. She almost fears that her answer will shut him away completely. "I was thinking...maybe...tomorrow sometime. I could say goodbye to everyone, and then go."

Gale nods, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. I'll ask Paylor for a jet. Or Anton. I think either one will be fine."

"Okay," she says.

They're silent a while, and Gale feels the subtle shift, the change between them, again. And he hates it - but he's not sure how to change it. If he smiles and is happy for her - which he _is_ because she got what she came for - she won't see it. She'll see all the bad things in him. And it's kind of unfair that even if he tries, she won't believe him.

But he tries, anyway.

"You know," he starts, shifting in his seat, and glancing up to her. "I'm glad you found that something. Whatever it is."

She looks at him for a while, and he knows she's dissecting him. But before long, a small smile graces her features, and he let's himself admit that she's beautiful.

"Yeah," she says. "Me too."

* * *

a/n; um, pacing is so bad, you guys, i apologize.

anon replies:

Calliope: if you forget constructive criticism, i feel like i'm doing my job right. ;D thanks for all your awesome reviews! i love getting all kinds of comments/thoughts, especially from previous chapters

Mrs obsession: i'm sorry for the lack of galeniss in this chapter. it had to be done. well, it didn't HAVE to be done, but for the story, i think it did. :) but thank you so much! the complexity of the characters is what's so fun about trying to write them and figure out what paths they will or should take.

jossie: it would have been pretty crazy if i let them go at it in there. i was pretty close to doing it. my hands have their own brain, i swear.

M: hopefully this chapter was slightly satisfying from my delay of posting something~ (:

The face: i could have totally used that idea. and then it didn't really work out... ;)

mae: hahaha. they'll probably think about locking that door next time. i know, what's up with them and hospitals, anyway?

Ana: they're probably never getting together.  
KIDDING. but it'll happen. have faith! :)

anon: I KNOW. she's probably the best at cockblocking this time around, since Reeva can't anymore, hahah. those lines totally felt weird writing - i'm so glad you liked them ;D i'm pretty sure this chapter ending might take the cake for being the worst one. maybe. i'll let you judge, though. :)


	24. kill

warning. word vomit. choppy. this chapter goes nowhere, almost. also: getting back to reviews today. please be patient with me.

chapter twenty-four – kill

so go on, love  
leave while there's still hope for escape  
got to take what you can these days  
there's so much ahead  
so much regret  
i know what you want to say  
i know it but can't help feeling differently  
i loved you, and i should have said it  
but tell me, just what has it ever meant? - kill, jimmy eat world (go listen to this song, everybody. classic jimmy eat world, and it fits so well.)

* * *

The next day starts early – mostly because Katniss can't sleep at all, but in part because she needs the day to be full. There are several things she wants to do before taking off in that jet and going…home.

She doesn't let herself think about it too hard. She thinks if she does, she won't tell anyone goodbye. She'll just run to whatever landing the jet's going to take off from. If she's honest, she doesn't want anyone to know she's leaving.

She almost backs out of all her plans immediately after grabbing her bag and placing it on her bed. She only stays her ground when Gale stands at her doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed.

"You ready to do whatever it is that you want to do?"

Katniss hasn't told him any of her plans. The night before was a bit too strained to say much of anything.

"Yeah," she says, trying to make her feelings back up her words. She glances around her room, grabbing her bag while she remembers what it all looks like.

"You can leave that here, you know," he says, gesturing to her bag. "We can pick it up after we do…whatever."

"I know," she says, walking past him and closing the door behind her. "I was going to leave it in the living room."

Gale follows her down the hallway, giving her a funny look. "Okay."

She sets it on the edge of the couch once they enter the room, and she looks around at it, the warm colors touching her through her clothes. She doesn't dwell on it too long.

"So," Gale draws out. "Who's first on your list?"

"Not who," she says, turning around to face him. "A place. Café Rendezvous. We'll need breakfast first, right?"

He exhales and reaches for the keys in the side desk bowl. "Good choice," he says, but he doesn't sound excited. Then again, she's not really hungry, and she doubts he is, too.

* * *

They walk the same path they did the first day she spent here. They walk down the gray sidewalk, blistering cold and dry in the winter air, reaching the path through the forest, with the trees all naked and bare, showing their branches and their teeth.

But she finds that she still loves it, the brief time they spend walking through it. It's very vulnerable, and the trees don't protect from any of the breezes. It's gray, and drab, and almost dreary, but it's still alive. They reach the cobblestones shortly after, and the setting slowly transforms from blacktop streets to sidewalks and buildings close together. Katniss stares at everything, from the women and men to the cracks in the foundations of the buildings, knowing the memories won't be permanent, but wishing that the feelings will be.

Nina greets them when they arrive, as ecstatic, if not more, than the first time she saw her.

"Gale!" she exclaims, hugging him, then hugging Katniss out of excitement. Katniss almost loses her balance at the surprise.

"Katniss!" she says. "Oh, my God, I didn't think I'd ever see you _again_!"

She pulls a smile out of Gale, and Katniss silently hopes that he's got a few more in him. Katniss smiles at Nina, trying and failing to show her as much excitement.

"Of course," she tells her. "I was hoping you'd be working this morning."

Nina's face lights up like a Christmas tree, and she bounds over to grab the menus.

"You're probably the nicest revolution starter, ever!" she says, showing them to a table. "We should go to lunch, or something. Hang out, you know?" Katniss and Gale take their seats as Nina hands out the menus. Nina flinches and immediately backtracks. "I mean, if you have time, or want to, or, um," she finishes with another dazzling smile and a light blush. "Ana's gonna be your waitress, and she'll be with you shortly."

Gale nods at her. "Thank you, Nina."

"I'll look for you next time I'm around," Katniss answers her, making the girl's day. She smiles, but is faced with a glare from Gale, which immediately zaps the smile out of her.

"Wasn't the point of this to tell Nina goodbye?"

Katniss's hands aimlessly mess with the menu. "Well, some of it, but she was so – "

"False hope is almost worse than real hope, Katniss," he tells her, averting his eyes to the menu. "I'm going to have to come back and tell Nina you're gone."

Katniss looks at him, grasping for something to answer him with. "I – I never said I wouldn't _visit."_

Gale's eyes are sharp when he looks at her above the menu. He's almost frightening.

"You never said you would, either," he says. "Besides, you don't have to promise anything. They're hard to keep."

It sounds like he's giving her an out – telling her she never has to come back, and somehow, he won't mind. But he must care. And if he can visit his family at least once a year, surely she can visit him every once in a while.

"But what if I do?" she insists, regarding him quietly. He moves his shoulders in a passive shrug.

"You can do what you want. It's not like I can stop you."

The words catch in her mind. "Do you not want me to come back?"

His chest heaves in a sigh, jaw buckling. He looks off to the side. "You've made friends here, Katniss. You _should_ come back. There's no reason for you to drop them completely."

He's not saying something – on purpose. She prods, "But?"

"But what?"

"Can I visit _you_?"

He laughs. "Why are you asking?"

Because he doesn't want her to visit. And the idea strikes her like a slap. But it's all over his face, to the way he's looking at her with dry eyes, a sardonic face.

"I just thought…after everything, it'd be…"

He waits a beat. "Different?" he suggests.

She cautions, "Some."

He puts his menu down, and he rubs at his neck. "It's not really different. It's the same as it's always been – well, when we were…friends," he amends.

The gray tint coloring his eyes are a special shade – different than the color they have when he's smiling, when they were watching Johanna and Anton battle out their feelings yesterday, when his arm was draped lazily, almost strategically across her chair. They're darker, worn, and worst of all, guarded. He looks at her, but doesn't truly look, and his fingers tap against the table in a jittery dance, like all he wants to do is get away from her. And part of her can't blame him. She's hurt him over and over, arguably now more than ever. But the other part can blame him, because she was never going to stay here forever. Did he honestly believe that she would have dropped the whole reason that propelled her to get on the plane with him in the first place?

They've never said they're friends aloud, but it's fact now, as foreign and familiar as it resounds between them. And maybe, secretly, they'd always been friends, as estranged and angry as they were – as she was, as he must have been – in the five year hiatus. But he looks at her another way than she remembers, and perhaps it's only different because her memory is faulty and unsure when it glides over the moments with him in it. Maybe it's because she notices more, or maybe it's because playing house with him didn't really feel like they were playing.

Or maybe because _friends_ was never the word to fully describe them.

She can't help but want to correct him, tell him they're not _friends._ Sitting across from him at this café doesn't feel the same as it used to feel in the forest. The forest connoted reliability and security and protection. Looking at him in the setting with menus and homey tables and breakfast floating on the air – it all aches for something else. Katniss doesn't want to put a word to the ache, and she knows it's in fear of what the word might turn out to be. An ache for something, anything at all, shouldn't even exist.

But it does. She has to look sightlessly away from him down to the fonts relating entrees and side items.

"Listen, Catnip," he emphasizes, (either mocking or sincere she can't tell), a minute or two later when she doesn't speak up. "I didn't see you or hear from you at all in five years. And I thought I was fine. I thought I was in the process of moving on. Of…of letting go, maybe," he says, and it's a strange admittance. He's doing everything he can to make himself keep talking – she can tell. "I was doing okay. I was fine. I was living and working and – I was fine. And then I just decided I needed to go see mom and Rory and Vick and Posy, and then you just showed up." He glares at her, like it's all her fault she fell asleep in the forest that day.

"And once you came with me here, I slowly realized that I was right back where I started. It was like the day I met you. I regretted it completely – I had thought, _great,_ two families to feed instead of one. But then…you were so good at the bow, and I was good at snares and we kind of…fit. We kind of made it." His glare softens, and he looks away from her when he realizes he can't stay mad. He laughs a little at himself, shaking his head. "When I turned fifteen... God, you're not supposed to know anything at fifteen. And _you_ were a prepubescent teenager who didn't even know what a period was."

She gives him a look. "_Fifteen_?"

He rolls his eyes. "I blamed hormones, back then. I blamed hormones on everything, looking back." He looks thoughtful. "That slag heap was a pretty good time."

She ignores him, glancing down to her fingers. "I didn't think about you that way at all until…"

When had she? She had been conscious that he was a male – but she saw that as an advantage while they hunted. Everything was practical and logical. She didn't let her mind stray much in that direction, though she would sometimes be curious. But he was Gale. And he wasn't…there was just no inclination to do things with him. With anybody. She had that ideal and she stuck with it. But she guesses, if she was still seventeen and was faced with no other option, Gale would probably have fit the bill. He was the only one she trusted enough, anyway.

"Until the games," he answers for her. "Faced with death, and you suddenly liked me a little bit more." He shrugs at her hardening gaze. "But that's how you were. You didn't _love_ anybody. Not outside your family. But you loved them fierce and hard, like everybody should have in 12. You loved and you didn't hold anything back. Even though you'd bitch and whine about your mom, you still loved her."

He's fervent in the way he speaks about her. His words are definite and leave no underlying question in them. And she isn't sure why he's deciding to remind her of who she was, used to be – maybe still is. It's a little overwhelming, with his discolored eyes and the stern line of his jaw.

The waitress chooses this time to place their drinks down in front of them, pulling out her writing pad and asking them what they'd like.

Gale gestures for her to answer first, and it's almost worse than the last time they came here. She hasn't seen what all they serve, and all she can think about are pancakes. And strangely, pancakes don't sound half bad. She answers the waitress with her order, handing her the menu, while Gale mimics her. He smiles at Ana, who reacts immediately with a light blush before turning and walking toward the front.

Gale turns his stare on her again, smile now far from his lips.

"Pancakes?"

It sounds like an accusation. Katniss merely shrugs. "I've never _hated _them."

He opens his mouth, as if he's going to protest (which he should, but she was very angry the last time). She hurries to speak first.

"You're right," she says, continuing their conversation. "About the games. I told myself I didn't have room for fear – not for me, but I let myself fear for my family, and your family. That was what happened first, during your visitation and my mom's and – Prim's. It was too sudden to think about anything else." She gives him a meek look. "It didn't make me realize anything I didn't know about our…relationship. I knew I could rely on you and knew that you'd help my fear about them starving fade away."

"You can't tell me you never feared you wouldn't see them again," Gale says.

It strikes her that they've never talked about this, about her experience or the games. It was too raw back then. But now – she wonders why he suddenly wants to know.

"Of course I did," she says back. "But if I let the thought stick with me, I might not have made it back – "

"I know," he interrupts. "I had to deal with it, too. Twice. Only without traps or immediate death." His words drip with sarcasm. "I was safe in the forest while you were running for your life every day."

Katniss hesitates for a moment, before admitting, "I missed you. Sometimes I wished you were there with me." She bites her lip. "I'm glad you weren't, but there were times…"

They're cut short for a moment as their food arrives, both with a short stack, steaming with butter, begging for syrup. Neither of them reaches for their forks.

"You have no idea," Gale says, voice strained, glancing blankly at his food. "How much I wanted to volunteer. Absolutely no idea." He goes to pick up his fork, doing nothing but squeezing the handle in his hand. "If Rory had been a few years older," Gale trails, though he laughs, a dry, hollow sound.

"If you had volunteered – "

"You wouldn't have forgiven me, I know," he answers too easily. "Dropping each family's well-being for a girl…I shouldn't have had the thought in my mind, but I did. I asked myself _what if_ almost every day. It was ridiculous."

Katniss grabs her fork, if only to do something else rather than fidget. She breaks apart some of her cake with her prongs, and she doesn't look at him.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks.

"Because I never told you how hard it was." It's frank and sharp. It forces her to glance up.

"Yeah, because I never _asked."_

"I'm sure you didn't think about it, either."

Her eyebrows fall. "Well, you didn't let me know. You never brought it up."

"Yeah," he says. "I did."

She pauses her demolition on her pancake, staring at him.

"No, you didn't."

His eyes flick to her lips and linger there. Then he looks to her eyes.

"Yes," he repeats. "I did."

Realization flushes over her. That first kiss just outside of the forest. That's what he's talking about.

What he was trying to convey that day was much more than she had originally thought.

_I had to do that. At least once._

She inhales. "You didn't mention it, or say anything about it – so I told myself it wasn't a big deal."

"I didn't want you to make it a big deal. I knew you could've – you definitely would have – but what kind of friend would I be to put you through that when you just got back?" He reaches over to his side, finally grabbing one of the several pitchers of syrup. "I just missed you. And I couldn't help myself back then, either." He smiles, and he starts eating, but she can't be sure if any of it is forced.

"Gale…" she starts, following his lead and gripping the syrup. She swallows, deciding to tell him. "I don't have to visit you. If it'll make it easier."

His chewing slows, and he smiles wryly.

"Easier for who?"

Katniss falters, and she can't answer him because she doesn't_ know_ the answer.

And she realizes she can't force herself to eat like he can.

* * *

They leave soon after, waving goodbye to Nina, who's still all smiles much to Gale's chagrin. He truly doesn't think he'll take the time out to tell Nina about Katniss, but he still feels bad for her.

"So what now?" he says once they're outside. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets, glancing around.

He isn't surprised when she asks him to take her to Anton's office in town. He hails a taxi for them, and they don't take any time at all getting there. When they reach the elevator, Katniss looks at him.

"Were you supposed to be at work today?"

He shakes his head. "Paylor usually gives us a few days off to recoup if we want. I usually don't take them, but they're there. And besides," he adds, pushing in the twenty-first button on the panel. "I didn't have any meetings."

Once the door slide open, he leads her down a hallway much like – if not exactly – like the one on his floor. Some of the secretaries greet Gale as they pass, and he politely greets them in turn. When they stop at his door, Katniss notices that Anton's door color is as neutral as Gale's.

"Hi, Mr. Hawthorne. Here to see Mr. Telon?" asks the secretary, smiling up at them behind her large glasses. She's older than Miranda, pushing forty if Katniss can guess aging right.

"We are," he tells her, smiling. "And you can call me Gale, Grace."

She waves her hand at him, pushing her glasses up in habit. "Oh, I couldn't!" she giggles. "But do go right in. He isn't particularly busy today."

Gale steps over to the door, forgoing knocking, which is probably a bad idea, considering –

He sighs, moving over to let Katniss walk in. Her eyes widen a fraction, and Gale almost laughs, closing the door as quiet as he can. He turns to say something, but is surprised by Katniss, who says loudly,

"Christ, you guys. Seriously?"

The couple jerks, Johanna almost falling out of Anton's lap. She whips her head to them is a harsh glare, softened by her mussed hair and swollen mouth. Anton doesn't look embarrassed at all, though after his initial surprise, he only seems content.

Gale finally laughs, not able to contain his amusement at the irony of the situation. "I would tell you two to get a room, but…"

Johanna rolls her eyes, giving a mock laugh. "You guys are hilarious. Really. Now leave."

"We will soon, don't worry." Gale looks over to Katniss, prodding her by jerking his head. Then he glances to Anton. "Did you get my message?"

Anton blinks, running a hand over his face.

"Yeah, I did. You'll have to meet up with Paylor, though. All of mine were being used."

Johanna shifts, looking between them. "What are being used? Jets?"

"Yeah," Katniss says, her smile dimming. "Um…I'm leaving. Back to 12."

Johanna raises a brow. "Already?"

"It's almost been two weeks," Katniss tells her, trying to stress the time. "I _need _to go."

She cuts her eyes over to Gale, gauging his attitude. He gives nothing away.

"If you say so," she intones, sounding largely unconvinced. She untangles from Anton, much to his dismay, standing by his desk and crossing her arms.

"Why are you here?" Gale asks, imitating her stance. "Shouldn't you be…at work?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be at work?" she gripes. Then she jabs her thumb at Anton, who's grin turns shit-eating. "He called me in."

"It's nine-thirty. And Grace said you weren't busy."

"_He's_ the one that wanted me. And I snuck in."

Anton places his palms behind his head, sighing happily. "Yep." He crooks his head over to Katniss. "So you're leaving us, huh?"

"Yeah," Katniss says.

Anton frowns this time, the comically pleased tone of his face melting away. He pushes himself out of his chair. "You only went to two workouts. Which means you have to come back soon."

Katniss gives him a small smile. "I can't promise soon. But…" she glances over to Gale, and he's not sure what she's looking for. A smile? Something to encourage her? Maybe. But why should he give her anything?

"I'm not sure when I'll get a chance to come visit," she finishes.

Anton presents her with a look. "You know you're talking to someone who has multiple jets at his disposal, right?" He grabs a business card off his desk, walking up to her and placing it between them as an offer. "Here's my number," he grins, cheeky. "When you're feeling lonely with your boy-toy, all you gotta do is call." He glances to Johanna over his shoulder. "Ain't that right, Jo-Jo?"

She answers with a deadly glare. "You _cannot_ call me that." Her severe gaze softens just slightly when she looks to Katniss. "And yeah, whenever. None of us are going anywhere." Her eyes flick to Gale for a second, but Gale gives her a bland stare.

Katniss slips the card from Anton, glancing at it briefly, before putting it in her back jean pocket.

"Thanks, Anton," she tells him gratefully, smile widening.

"It's a card, Katniss. It's nothing." He moves to grab her in an unexpected bear hug, and at first, Katniss is caught off guard. Then she slowly relaxes and reciprocates, wrapping her arms around his back. He's at least two heads taller than she is, and each of his arms can more than likely go around her waist once. She gives him one last squeeze before he lets go, and he kisses the top of her head. He's surprisingly very affectionate. She looks over to Johanna, and she thinks that he'll be good for her. She's lucky to have him, finally.

And she thinks she'll miss him. Them. Knows she will.

"You can hug her, too, Johanna," Anton prods, though it sounds like he's teasing her. "Nobody will know but us."

"Good try," she answers. "But I don't do hugs."

Anton smiles a knowing, sly smile. "You sure did a lot of things last night."

Katniss expects a sneer or a sharp remark that'll bring Anton to his knees. But instead, he receives the slightest up-tilt of a smirk and a lustful, "If I remember right, you were speechless most of the night."

Anton slinks away from Katniss, coming up beside Johanna. "My mouth was busy."

"Uh huh," she mumbles before he falls into her and they start kissing.

Katniss shifts uncomfortably, while Gale rolls his neck. He clears his throat.

"C'mon, you guys. Johanna, tell Katniss goodbye and we'll be gone."

Breaking off from Anton, Johanna gives Gale a disbelieving look.

"Please, Gale. Katniss won't be gone a month." She turns to Katniss, smiling rakishly.

Katniss sighs. "Johanna…"

Gale's eyes flash. "She's not coming back, Johanna. And if she does, she's not going to stay. So I'd suggest you tell her goodbye or wait until she comes back to visit you."

Both Johanna and Anton's eyes glide to Gale, open and curious. His tone is a little heated, bordering on furious. It makes Johanna smirk.

"_Oh_," she elongates. "Did I hit a nerve, Gale?"

Gale closes his eyes and exhales. "I just want to get all of these farewells over with, alright?"

Johanna holds up her hands and gives in. "Okay. Goodbye, Katniss," she tells her. "See you soon."

Anton nods to her and smiles, mentioning his card one last time.

She can't really say goodbye, so she waves and rushes out the door. Gale follows her a second later, though he doesn't tell her anything.

And she knows she should have run to the landing this morning. She should have left already. Goodbyes suck.

* * *

They find Jack next, on the first floor of the communications building – though the title is relative. He was brought to this area of government because he was good with building machines. And testing them. The room he's in looks like a giant garage, metal plates and wires littering the place, some cars or train parts suspended in the air or jacked up with workers underneath them, fixing whatever it is that they're fixing. It's almost like a giant car shop, though everything they're working on are only prototypes and ideas that might be sent to manufacturers at some later date.

Jack ends up being underneath one of the cars, goggles covering his eyes and oil and grit covering everything else.

When he takes his goggles off, his eyes are tan circles.

"Heya, Katniss. Gale," he greets them, ginning with surprise, teeth blaringly white. "What are y'all doing down over here?"

It's suddenly so hard. Why is it suddenly so hard? Katniss has the mind to think that maybe it's because she feels as if she really won't see any of them again, even though Anton's card burns in her back pocket.

"I'm…" she says, falters.

Gale helps. "She's leaving. Back to where she came from."

Jack's face immediately drops, the white of his teeth disappearing under the black line of his lips.

"Oh," he says. He stands and reaches to his side to grab his already ruined towel, wiping off his hands the best he can. "Didn't realize it was time, already."

"Yeah, it kind of…hit me, yesterday," Katniss says, voice quiet.

"I guess Peeta would miss you, wouldn't he?" Jack sighs, throwing the towel over his shoulder onto the hood of the car. "And you'd miss him, too."

"I want to tell him what I've done," Katniss agrees. "In person."

"O' course." Jack rubs at his chin, glancing down at himself. "I'd hug you, but I'm just a tad dirty."

Katniss is able to smile a little, and before she can think about it, she steps up to hug him.

"Aw, Katniss, you just ruined all your clothes," Jack whines, though he wraps his arms around her, much like Anton's embrace, forearms leaving marks across her back that she doesn't care about.

"I'll miss you," she says into his chest.

"Nowhere near as much as I'll miss you," he answers effortlessly. He sighs and leans back, reaching up and holding her shoulders at arm length. "I don't care if you visit anyone else," he says. "But visit me, okay?" And then he winks.

Katniss laughs lightly. "I'll try."

Jack lets her go, glancing over to Gale. Gale isn't looking at them, leaning against a column some feet away, staring disinterested at a group of workers handling a single car of a train. Jack leans to her ear.

"Go easy on him," he whispers. "He looks beat."

She blinks and looks away from him. "Like I said," she whispers back. "I'll try."

* * *

"Remember when you were terrible at making friends?" Gale asks her while they sit in the back seat of a cab. Bolts is taking the few days off that he's allotted, spending time with his family at his home in the Capitol.

"I'm still terrible at making friends," she says, looking out the window.

"I knew you weren't very perceptive, but I didn't know you were _blind_," he says dryly, earning him an angry glare.

"I'm not blind. And I _am_ perceptive." She turns back to the window. "And I _am_ terrible at making friends."

Gale scoffs, watching the time float by through the buildings and the streets they pass.

"Tell that to the squad."

And Katniss can't help but wish there had _never_ been anything romantic between them.

* * *

Bolts and Joy's house is very beautiful. It's two stories, each room open and furnished with pictures of their family and their children. The colors are warm and inviting, and though Katniss tells Bolts she has to leave sooner rather than later, she meets Joy and their children, Kessy – the eldest – who can't be older than six, Wayne, who's four, and Piper, who Kessy's holding in her lap while they all watch a children's show on the television.

Kessy gives Piper to Joy when Katniss and Gale walk into the room. Kessy hugs Gale's leg in greeting, much like Finnick had done all those days ago, while Gale pets her head, greeting her with a, "Hey, kiddo."

Katniss meets all of them, giving hesitant hi's to Kessy and Wayne, but they're much too absorbed by the show they're watching to be curious about her for too long.

It's an hour or two before lunchtime, but Joy has snacks ready for her, anyway. Finger sandwiches and cookies and – the sight of them makes her stomach roar with nausea, and she just can't swallow any of it.

Gale can. It's somehow easy for him, but she doesn't know how it can be. Unless it truly _is_ easy, and the thought bubbles a type of furiousness under her skin. It's illogical to feel that way about it, but she can't deny that it bothers her. She can't put a cap on her feelings like she used to, and she isn't sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Joy continues to hold Piper in her lap as she takes a seat by Katniss on the couch. Gale sits in one of the chairs across from the couch, Bolts in the other one, Kessy and Wayne near his feet facing the t.v.

"Dirk has told me a lot about you," Joy tells her, shifting with Piper, who grabs at Joy's long, brown hair. Piper grabs at one of her fingers, instead. "I feel as if I already know you."

Katniss smiles politely. "Bolts – er, Dirk, told me that your name was your best description."

Joy laughs, and it's an inviting sound. It makes her bright blue eyes sparkle and her face light up, and she encompasses youth even though she's close to the same age as Bolts.

"He's said that about me for all the time we've known each other." She smiles toward him. "He has yet to convince me it's true."

"Stubborn," Bolts mutters.

"Oh, please," Joy teases, leaning toward Katniss. "You should have known me while I was pregnant. I don't know why he didn't divorce me."

"Paylor had the papers ready, if I needed them," Bolts says, smiling at the mock glare Joy gives him.

"He thinks he's funny," Joy tells her, almost conspiratorially. "But he's the worst at telling jokes."

"They always seem to make you laugh," Bolts disagrees, punctuating his tone with a raised brow.

"Only because I feel bad for you."

Bolts shakes his head. "See what I live with?"

Gale elbows Bolts. "You're lucky to have her."

Bolts laughs gruffly. "Don't I know it."

"You should know it," Joy scolds him, her tone clashing with her easy-going smiles. There's something undeniably sweet about her. Katniss gets the feeling that Joy wouldn't hurt a fly. "I've given you three little ones."

Almost as if on cue, Kessy knocks into Bolts's leg, Wayne close behind. Kessy sits on his foot, one arm wrapping around his calf as she lays her head on his shin.

"And what would I do without them," Bolts says, showing his affection by leaning down and rubbing his daughter's head.

Joy turns back to Katniss, inquiring, "So, Dirk told me that you're leaving to get back to your man at home?"

At the question, Katniss glances down to her hands, tangling them together out of habit.

"Yeah. He's been good to me."

"That's wonderful," Joy says, beaming at her. "I think as long as he makes you happy, that's all that matters."

Katniss gives her a weak smile.

"We're gonna grab some drinks," Bolts interrupts them, going to stand while Kessy slides off his leg easily, sitting by Wayne. Gale stands up as well, giving Bolts a silent look. "Want anything?"

"Water would be great," Joy says. "Katniss?"

"I'll have the same."

When they reach the safety of the kitchen, Gale's eyes follow Bolts as he grabs the drinks from the fridge.

"So, why did I come with you?"

Bolts hands him a bottle of water, but Gale sets it on the kitchen counter.

"Just to save you from some of the girl talk. Joy will dig out whatever she wants to from Katniss. She's got that thing about her where people will tell her anything." Bolts leans against the counter. "And if you're in there with them, they won't talk about you."

Gale copies him, leaning on another edge of the counter. He crosses his arms. "No offense, Bolts, but I kind of want to get going."

"I'll tell Joy in a second. I wanted to give her a chance to meet Katniss."

"I wanted them to meet, too. I'm just – tired."

"Don't fall asleep just yet," Bolts says, looking over to him. "You can still fight for her, if you want to."

Gale laughs. "Last time I tried, it didn't exactly turn out in my favor."

"Last time was different."

"After everything that's happened?" Gale shakes his head. "Not necessarily."

"Listen, Gale," he sighs, trying to catch his eye. "You've got to remember the reason she came in the first place. Not because Peeta made her come here, but because he couldn't fix her by himself." He pushes off the counter, grabbing the extra water bottles. "I don't know what she was really like before this, but I'd like to say that she's happy now."

Bolts gives him a shrug, then gestures toward the doorway. Gale follows him out, taking his seat as Bolts gives the girls their drinks. He notices that Katniss is now holding Piper, right arm scooped underneath her, looking slightly uncomfortable but producing a smile as the baby girl tries to grab at her braid.

The thing Bolts doesn't know, Gale thinks, watching the women laugh, is that Katniss chooses based on best interest. Survival, need, nurturing – whatever it happens to be. She's cutthroat that way. Peeta bests him in all those fields, time and again, even if this time she needed something different for a while. And it wasn't Gale. It was different scenery – it was a place filled with people who knew what they had and knew what they lost.

Over the years, Gale's come to believe that people can't change. Architecture can, looks can. People grow up, and people can look different, and they can be weathered by who they're with and where they are and every experience they have. They can strive to change, and perhaps few surpass the goal if it's what they truly want. But deep down, when they're alone and by themselves, isn't it so easy to snap back into who they are?

The girl that left District 12 to the arena and the one that came back was the same – Gale doesn't care if people say that she's another person, or that the games _changed_ her. Extraordinary circumstances exonerate the hidden traits that people don't see in daily life. It gave her experience and wisdom and she grew up, even more than she had during the hardships of District life.

The war made her grow, too. Her wisdom of survival isn't measured in years, but in what she chooses to do with it. After the war, she reverted back into a girl – she ignored all of what she went through in preference for wanting what she'd never get back.

But now, looking at her, he'll tell himself she's figured out how to live without it. The environment she lived in, stolen in this short week and a half, was what she needed to remember all the other things she learned. And now she doesn't need it anymore.

And that's why she'll leave. Not just because of choosing between him and Peeta, but because this isn't her home. This is just a place she needed for a while. Maybe she'll need it again down the months and years along the way. But she'll never need it forever.

This is what Bolts doesn't know about her. Gale can fight for her all he wants, but he's not sure what else he can give her. He tried to give her his heart, protection for her family, and he'd like to say his life. But Peeta's done that three times, and half her family died, and how is she supposed to care about a heart when it won't help her with anything she needs?

Once Katniss has hugged a Bolts and Joy and they're finally able to leave, walking to the prominent yellow car parked on the curb, he tells her, "You should be a mom."

She doesn't hold back her surprise. "What?"

Gale shrugs in response. "I'm saying if you get pregnant, you shouldn't fear it."

He opens the car door for her, but she stops at the entrance, looking up to him.

"I don't want kids," she tells him, and it's as adamant a statement it was when she was younger. It doesn't deter him.

"It doesn't mean you won't have them."

She stares at him for a long time, eyes searching for something. He's not sure what she's looking for, but he looks right back at her.

"I should be a mom?"

He gives her a smile – the first one of the day. It doesn't go unnoticed. "You'll be a good one, when the time comes."

"But…" she trails, watching him as he walks around the car to the other side.

"Maybe I can babysit. I could be the cool uncle or the estranged…cousin." He's joking – she can hear it in his voice, and she tries to smile for him just for the sake of smiling.

"So, where to next?" he asks once they're sitting side by side in the dark of the taxi.

"The hospital," she answers, and once they take off, she can't help but think about how she suddenly doesn't consider having a baby would be the worst thing in the world.

She glances at Gale out of the corner of her eye, his head lying back on the cushion of the seat with his eyes closed. She can't fathom how he could persuade her to have a baby when he wasn't trying to persuade at all.

* * *

The nurse at the front desk pages her mom, and it doesn't take long for Elaine to appear from the side hallway, looking stressed and overly worried as her eyes catch on Katniss and Gale standing in the main lobby.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" is the first thing she asks, coming up to Katniss and giving her a critical eye.

"I'm fine, mom," Katniss hurries to mollify, smiling. "I just wanted to tell you bye."

At Elaine's softening demeanor, Gale takes a step back.

"I'll be over here," he tells them, trudging his way back to the seats in the lobby. Katniss almost stops him before she thinks better of it.

"You're leaving?"

She nods. "Peeta needs me."

Her mom's hand finds loose strands from her braid, slipping down the side of her face. She cups Katniss's cheek.

"Do _you_ need him?"

Her mouth parts at the question. It's heavy. It contains weight and something special. Like if she answers with a lie, it'll be okay, because she's her mom. But she can't lie right now.

"I don't know," she croaks, a lump already forming at the base of her throat. It crawls up slowly. "That's why I need to go back." She hesitates for a moment. "It'd be unfair if I didn't need him, wouldn't it?"

Her mom gives her a little smile, refusing to drop her hand from her face. "It would only be unfair to him if you lied about it."

Katniss makes a strangled sound. "This is awful."

"I know, sweetheart," Elaine says gently. "But it wouldn't be awful if you didn't feel anything for Gale."

She shifts at the mention of him, frustration coating her tongue. "I wish I still hated him."

Elaine laughs at this. "It's amazing how it only took five years. I imagined you'd never forgive him."

Katniss can't blame her for thinking that. She thought it, too. "I didn't think I would, either."

Elaine glances over her shoulder, finding Gale's form among the other sitting patrons. "Does he know?"

"That I forgave him?" Katniss follows her mom's stare. "…yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"You should make sure he does before you leave."

At Katniss's questioning gaze, her mom says, "So he can let go of Prim."

"But he's already – "

"He has a hard time with it. He always had. I think the word from you will finally get him to stop being so self-destructive."

Katniss looks over to him again, not certain that words could do it. "What if he doesn't stop?"

Elaine hums. "Then I guess he'll have to find someone that takes the time to stop him. Until then, he might still have occasional visits to the ER."

Katniss gazes at her mom, sadness evident. "Take care of him."

"I always do," she answers, a smile countering Katniss's frown. "When are you leaving?"

"A little after I leave here." Katniss stares at her mom for a while. "I'll call you more."

Elaine steps forward, hugging her before stepping back to look at her. "I will, too. And Katniss?"

"Yeah?"

Her eyes are intent. "Be happy."

* * *

"Your mom take it well?" Gale asks as they arrive at his apartment. He takes out his keys and unlocks his door.

"She did," Katniss says, walking into the room. She immediately retrieves her bag, slowing as she walks up to Gale, who's standing by the still open front door. "We're going to call each other now."

"Glad to hear it." He turns to walk out before she stops him.

"Gale."

He looks over his shoulder at her, finding her staring at the carpet.

"You know…you know that I forgive you, don't you?"

He turns around fully, glancing at her with a thoughtfulness that almost makes her flush.

"I do, now."

"You mean…" she falters. "You didn't know?"

He smiles again, and she mentally tallies that it's his second. "It's nice to hear it."

Katniss thinks she'll tell her mom that she was right – but she's certain that her mom always knew.

* * *

The landing is right by Paylor's office. But instead of going to find her, Paylor surprises both of them by meeting them outside the building, near the fence of the landing.

"Paylor," Gale greets her, looking as serious as ever. "Thanks for getting her a jet at such late notice."

"It wasn't a problem. Not many were in use today." Paylor's eyes fall onto Katniss, who's glancing over to the jet. Gale waits for her to say the customary goodbye or comment about Katniss leaving. Instead, she tells him, "Give us a moment? I need to speak with her."

Katniss glances back to them, giving Paylor a questioning stare. Gale's skeptical.

"About what?"

"Nothing that concerns you." Her tone is final. Gale sighs in a defeated, exasperated way, turning to take his steps toward the fence surrounding the landing pad. He looks at them occasionally, but masks his face in disinterest.

"Katniss…" Paylor starts, crossing her arms with a strict rigid stance. "Before you leave, I must thank you."

Katniss tilts her head, bemused. "Thank me? For what?"

"For killing Atlas and Reeva." Her voice is so bland and straight that Katniss has to strain her ears to hear any gratitude. But if she's honest, she doesn't want any, and she's glad that it's so hard for Paylor to give.

"That was an accident," Katniss says truthfully. "I can hardly remember what happened."

Paylor doesn't look surprised. "Well, remembering or not, you still did the right thing. Your judgment was still reliable, even under that kind of duress."

Katniss had called it lucky. Lucky that she didn't kill any of the squad members on accident. Good judgment was bordering on fictitious.

"No disrespect, Paylor, but I don't know if that description is correct."

"I don't care what you don't know," Paylor answers. "I care about what you can do."

Katniss blinks. "I don't think I understand…"

Paylor's chest falls in a sigh. "I'm going to offer you a spot on the squad, Katniss." Before she can say anything, Paylor continues. "I'm not asking you for an answer right now, especially not right before you're leaving to go home."

Katniss looks on in incredulity. "You'd want me to be on your squad?"

Paylor raises a brow. "I don't take things like this lightly. You've proven what you can still do. And you've seemed to take a spot on the team, regardless of my permission."

This makes Katniss wince. "I didn't mean to assume a role with them."

"Doesn't matter. I'm giving you a chance to assume one, now."

Katniss looks off to the side, glancing at the jet, then to Gale who's looking at anything but them, toward the gray of the government building behind Paylor.

"How long will the offer stand?"

Paylor half-shrugs. "Until you give me an answer."

Katniss furrows her eyebrows. "But what if – what if it takes me a long time? Like a month? A year, even –"

"You'll always have a place, here." The sincerity that stands behind her words is as forceful as her presence. But Katniss can't help but question it. Compared to all the stern stares and carefully detached demeanor, receiving words like this from Paylor seem out of place.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Paylor gives her a funny look, almost as if she's amused. "I'm not being nice. I'm giving you a choice that's only for you to decide." When Katniss doesn't say anything, Paylor continues. "You survived two arenas and a war. People helped you, of course – but most of the time, the choices you made were necessary ones. They were sometimes choices that you didn't like. But people's lives were at stake every day, and the choices weren't usually about you, but about the country. Whether you realized that or not."

"I knew that," Katniss says, frowning at her. "I knew what was going on. But that doesn't explain why you're giving me an opportunity."

Paylor stares at her for a while. "I'm giving you an opportunity because I don't believe you've ever had one to yourself."

Katniss thinks she's had plenty of opportunities. Some were forced, and she didn't have any say – like being the Mockingjay or like standing here, in the Capitol. But others were her own, like letting go of her sister. Many were shared, like living with Peeta. But a compassionate Paylor is a Paylor rarely seen, and something tells Katniss to soak in the moment.

"I'll think about it."

Paylor nods. "Good." Then she motions toward the jet and the fence. "You better get going. He's waiting for you."

She's not sure if Paylor means Peeta or Gale. Or the guy manning the jet. She thinks it's the guy manning the jet.

Katniss tries to give her a smile. "Goodbye, Paylor."

"Goodbye, Katniss." She leaves Katniss with a lingering look, drops her arms, and turns around, heading back into the door of the building to her office.

Katniss wonders if Paylor knows how much harder she just made everything.

"What was that about?" Gale strides up beside her, examining the door Paylor disappeared through. Then he surveys Katniss, his arms still crossed.

"Um…" she starts, shifting her bag higher onto her shoulder. "She offered me a _job_."

"Huh." His glance changes. "What kind?"

She almost doesn't tell him. "A position on the squad."

"Oh." His astonishment is evident across his face. "Well, I don't think she's ever been turned down before."

"I didn't turn her down," Katniss hurries to say. "Not yet."

Gale answers with a deliberately obvious look. "You mean you're actually going to think about taking it?"

"I don't know – but it's a thought," Katniss stumbles under his gaze. "It's a kind offer – "

"You'd have to leave 12." He says it as if the thought never crossed her mind. "And you're not."

She bristles. "You don't know that."

His eyes furrow at the statement, anger coalescing behind them, and he straightens up a bit. "What is _up_ with you? First, you make this huge deal about leaving, having me escort you – "

"Me?" She can't help it. For him to start accusing her of actually thinking about herself – "You're the one that's been acting all beat up and broken this whole day and talking to me about the past and having kids and..."

"And then you admit that you might actually come back to stay?" His eyes flicker at her words. "How am I supposed to act, Katniss? Every fucking time I'm around you, you always manage to rip me apart. And it hurts. You think I'm going to just ignore what it feels like for your sake?"

She glares. "_Every_ time I'm around you? What are you talking about? This week _hardly_ counts for _every _time."

He scoffs, then laughs, as if he can't help himself. "Are you kidding me? Would you think back for just a second, back to the days when we were friends?" He shifts on his heels, looking off to the side. "You did it a lot. It wasn't exactly your fault. I knew what I was getting into when it came to you. You didn't want it. And I was as careful with you as I was reckless with myself. And then I watched you on the projector screen, and I watched you start slipping away. It wasn't – it wasn't so bad, you know. I knew when you faked and when you didn't." He stops for a second, rubbing behind his neck roughly. "And when the second time came, I tried to find the times when you were faking. And I could barely find one moment. It was different. I thought you were different – just for a second, I thought you were someone else. But then I realized that you were just a girl who was in love with a boy. You were Katniss and you were in love, and I didn't know you because I'd never seen that Katniss before."

His eyes are glassy as he gets further into his words, and Katniss feels her veins stumble against the tissue of her skin.

"Gale…I didn't – "

"I knew it – the moment when I knew you weren't mine anymore. I _knew _it." He reaches out to her for a brief second, before dropping it, as if unsure what he was going to do.

Katniss's mind flutters back to a moment – and Katniss thinks it was the moment on the beach in the second arena, when she felt the fireball in her stomach. When she moved onto Peeta's lap and kissed him with more passion than she knew she had. She wonders if the moment he holds behind his eyes is the same one, but she doesn't dare ask.

"So I fought," he says simply. "I immersed myself in that war. I learned strategies and techniques and traps and bogus detail about bogus things. I wanted to protect my family and your family and you. There were a lot of things I wanted to do. But I got so trapped underneath my anger and my selfishness and my jealousy that I forgot the most important thing."

He reaches out again, and his fingertips find her cheek. At the touch, she feels the warmth of melancholy and fear erupt inside her. It's a volcano – it shakes her bones. It quivers her lips.

"Us," he says, answering the silent question. "Friendship. The things I never thought I'd take for granted. I fought, and it didn't do a damn thing. And after yesterday, it was like watching the past on repeat – just quicker."

"But it's not like the past – not exactly," she says, and she's amazed that she's found anything inside her to speak with. It comes out all in a rushing blur. A shaky hand finds his chest. "You have my friendship. We have what we lost."

He glances down to her hand. "I should be happy, shouldn't I?" He smiles wryly. "But I'm not. I'll always want _more."_ He shakes his head, almost knowingly. "I could never shake my selfishness."

Her hand clenches the fabric and a button. "Maybe when the hurt goes away," she says, vainly at best, though she hopes for his sake – hopes that time will be kinder the second go around. And she knows full well that thinking that is selfish, too.

"Maybe." He shrugs. "Maybe if you don't come to see me for a couple of years."

"Maybe," she whispers. _If I can._ She won't say it – it'll be her own secret goal.

Because she doesn't want to hurt him anymore.

He drops his hand from her cheek, and she loosens hers on his shirt.

He gives her one last, long look, a profound, weighty look that sucks some of herself away. Then he leans in and kisses her forehead gently, a hand coming up to graze her neck for the barest moment. And then he eases up, and he gives her a serious glance.

"Don't forget like I did. Okay?"

She does her best to talk around the building hiccups in her chest. "I won't."

She doesn't know how he does it, but he grants her with a small, soft smile. She doesn't think she'll forget what it looks like, either.

"Goodbye, Catnip."

He steps away from her, but he still faces her, giving her a wide enough berth to get on the plane, but she's not sure if he's doing it to keep her from getting on, or to keep her from not letting go.

It's so different than last time.

"Goodbye, Gale," and she praises herself, because she doesn't choke or cry or even rasp. Then she turns around, and she's almost far enough away from him before a thought – the most random, delicate thought strikes her like a bolt. She's never thought about it before this moment, and she turns back around, quickly, needing to know the answer as if it's the last knot of a tether.

"Gale – " but he's still there, and he hasn't turned away like she has. He only looks at her.

"What…what were you going to tell me when they dragged you out the door – right before I left for the first arena, for the Capitol, when they slammed the door on you. What were you going to tell me?"

He doesn't blink. He doesn't even hesitate.

"That I loved you."

She nods slowly, gripping her bag with frozen fingers. She hasn't noticed, but she can see her breath in front of her face, and it comes out fast and heavy.

Then she turns back to the plane, as fast as her breathing, and she runs to it.

Because, she thinks, if she doesn't run and get off the land as rapidly as she can –

She might not leave.

* * *

a/n; happy olympics! :)

m: i just spent 9k words discussing her leaving. -_- definitely wasn't supposed to happen, and then it did. but next chapter will be the really pivotal one. not much galeniss here, i know, but look! a kiss on the forehead! ;) also, you ruminated? um, awesome.

anon: i definitely felt like she'd be in denial about something like this, too. i mean, i know i haven't mentioned it a whole lot, but she _does_ love Peeta. i'll go into all the totally _complex_ details about that later (haha). and thank you about that last scene!for some reason, it was the easiest one throughout the whole chapter ._. Oh, and johanna. yeah. i tried to make johanna and anton parallel kat/gale by showing how timing can sometimes be everything. johanna's missed a lot of opportunities with anton, but when it counted the most, she acted on it, even with all her walls and her awful penchant for shoving people extremely far away from her. and katniss just witnessed that. haha, it should help her, right? :)

Calliope: oh, no worries. calling katniss a bitch is a good thing in my book. because she so easily can be one. i wanted to try to shed some light on her thoughts in this chapter, especially with her starting to think what life would be like in the Capitol. and i also wanted to put some input from gale. just to understand why she does the things she does, and about the past things that happened between them that they've NEVER REALLY TALKED ABOUT. you'll totally be the judge if it came out understandable. i probably wrote this chapter between midnight and 4 every morning hahaha. and about the johanna/gale paragraph - thank you! seriously. SERIOUSLY. (and about ending happily - i'm pretty sure i'm not gonna tell you ;D hahaha)

Guest: total letdown, right?(:

mae: broken hearts! yeah, katniss sucks. she can have the worst timing. i mostly used this chapter to clear up some loose ends between them - but you're right about Gale's trust. even though, stupidly, he'll still trust her deep down somewhere, if/when the time comes, it'll still be hard to let her get so close to him. i mean, seriously, how can you trust someone who hurts you so much? i think it'll depend on the timing. again. ;) keep your faith in me!

Rachelle: i've hurt him a lot in this fic - physically and emotionally. i don't know what's up with me and making him hurt so much. it kind of just happened that way. but it'll get better(:

shawnie: maybe after the next chapter...but i can't make any promises. i word vomit way too much, haha.

Kay20: i'd like to say it's a universal fact that katniss can't get things right the first time. or, um, the second time. hahaha. but having to leave helped her with some of her thoughts/feelings. or it could have just made her more confused. the next chapter will help, i think. and i love that you mentioned the trust issue. when that time comes (since it has to) when they meet up again, it'll be harder and maybe different. hopefully gale will be meaner and have some kind of self-preservation - for his sake, at least. but he'll have that sweet spot for her. it'll play out, somehow. (:

Rebeca: definitely got some bad loose ends between them, for sure. and they'll have to fix them sooner or later. and katniss's cruelty or i guess 'accidental' cruelty will play a factor later. but for now, katniss will have to figure out things by herself. (: and thank you! i'm glad i put your name in here, too.

Nicole: i knowwww. maybe she'll redeem herself. (:

Jamie: i have this thing for people/characters who either make people hate them, are dark and tortured, or who totally aren't who they seem to be. Jack's my baby. i love him. haha. and yeah, there's maybe three chapters at most, left. it all depends on how much i write for each one. but there's a reason she's going back. she can't just _leave_ peetA. but she'll have to fix all her messes. have faith (: unhappy endings are the most unsatisfying things. i think we all know that from experience. -_-


	25. you were a kindness

a/n; a line from The Dark Knight in here. it's obviously not mine.

chapter twenty-five – you were a kindness

there's a radiant darkness upon us,  
but i don't want you to worry – you were a kindness, the nationals

* * *

Katniss arrives without flourish. Nobody is there to greet her as she steps out of the plane and onto the outskirts of District 12. She didn't call Peeta. She was going to, but her fingers hesitated over the numbers before she put her phone back into her pocket, deciding that she could surprise him, instead.

She knows he must be worried – though she told him not to the last time she called him in the hospital. He never listens when it comes to her. But it hasn't been two weeks, and Peeta is so durable in waiting.

She walks parallel to the old fence line, the open forestry the only indication of what used to be held as a restriction. She sees what used to be the Seam, and she picks out where her old home had been, years ago.

She's avoided these places over the years. Or maybe she's never taken the time to truly look over them. Thinking back over all she's done in the last five years doesn't seem like much – it's much less than Gale's succeeded in doing. But she was content, and Peeta was content with her. With working side by side in the bakery, meeting at the house later in the evening after closing, sometimes cooking dinner together, him trying to teach her how to make different recipes. She remembers when they finally started to sleep in the same bed, how he'd kissed her sweetly and didn't push her into anything she didn't want to do.

She turns down the path, coming up to the bakery. The smells find her first as she stands in front of the doors, all but consuming her as she enters. Nostalgia bites at her as she takes in the scenery, everything in the exact position as it was before she left. It's strange to think she's only been gone a few days – it feels like years – though she still wonders why it all looks the same.

Her eyes spot Peeta behind the counter, talking to a customer with one of his signature smiles, not noticing that she's arrived.

She wants to go to him. She wants to tell him that she's better, that she's overcome herself and her grief and Prim. She wants to tell him that he was right about her all along. But she feels like she's stuck, like she can't move to him, because how is she supposed to tell him about everything else? About the things she did that he'd never do?

She guesses she can blame it on vulnerability and misguided judgment, but she can't do that to him. He's been so good to her, all these years, and she…

"Katniss!"

She jerks, looking over to her side to see a girl rushing over to her, a giant smile shining in a pretty face. Katniss has to blink before she's wrapped up in a hug.

"We've missed you," she tells her, letting her go enough to stand back and look over her.

Katniss can't believe she doesn't remember what Delly had looked like before she left. She's far from that pasty-faced, lumpy girl from years before and during the war. Her cheeks have gained a regular flush, either because she's helping out and working, or because she smiles so much. She's also thinned out some, whatever fat she retained emphasizing her shape. She's grown into her body. Her hair's grown up, too, becoming a flaxen type of blonde. Katniss had never paid much mind, mostly because Delly had been out of her periphery during the past years. She owned the shoe store with her younger brother, and she's visited every once in a while – Delly and her brother had even come to eat dinner with them a few times. But like with everyone else, Katniss paid attention halfway.

"Peeta said you might call before you came back – did you call? Oh, that doesn't matter. Peeta!" she calls over her shoulder, though it's unnecessary. Peeta is already walking toward them, wearing an apron blotted with flour and a large smile on his face.

He doesn't say anything. He just comes up and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, "I'm so happy you're here."

At those words, Katniss feels herself rip open – that attachment of emotions unhinge. She immediately feels her eyes burn, all the tears she hadn't cried all day rushing up through her. She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face into his shoulder.

"Katniss – "

She shakes her head. "I'm okay. You were right. It fixed me."

One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of her head. She hears him tell Delly to take over the counter and the answering sound is the pattering of her feet as she walks away from them. Peeta's breath mixes with the loose strands of her hair in a sigh.

"I'm sorry you had to leave to be okay."

"No, Peeta," she says, shaking her head again, more vehemently. "I'm not. Prim doesn't bother me, anymore. She still makes me sad, and I can't think about her for too long, but…" She leans back, catching his clear blue eyes with her own. "I've let her go."

And, she thinks, she's let go of all the nastiness, too. The nastiness of the old Capitol. The ghosts. The things that will still give her nightmares and make her wonder what she became in those dark years.

Peeta reaches up to wipe her tears off her cheeks, a soft, cheerless smile gracing his face as he gazes at her. Then he drops his hand and finds hers, curling his fingers around her own.

"I knew you would," he says quietly. "I didn't have a doubt you would."

She smiles back at him, trying to off-put the somber demeanor he has, though she feels it, too. She feels that indescribable weight between them. The thing that had, perhaps, always been there, but now is not able to be ignored. She squeezes his hand.

"C'mon," he says after a moment, leading her away to the door. "Let's get you home. You can tell me all about it."

She tells him most of the story on the living room couch, sitting side by side with some kind of tea he made for them, her luggage off to the side and forgotten, for now.

She tells him about Paylor and the squad – Johanna and Anton and Jack and Bolts. They treated her like a family, and she tells him how grateful she was for that, because none of them had any type of obligation to be so nice to her.

She explains her living situation, and Peeta isn't surprised. He's actually happy about it – "I wouldn't like you living alone. Who would take care of you?"

And Peeta's right. It's something that makes her fill with regret – because he's had to take care of her these past few years, even though she was fully capable of it herself. She just chose not to. And looking at Peeta, she thinks she'll never be able to make it up to him.

She continues, telling him about Eddie's, and how for a bar, it wasn't so bad. She informs him of Atlas and Reeva and the crazy ones that the old Capitol still had a spell on, and how there are still some people like that out there. She tells him about how she got into a catfight – much to his amusement. She's able to un-garble what she had told him over the phone when she was in the hospital, about Prim and Snow. Tells him as much as she can without losing her voice to the thickness of emotion.

Then she moves to happier grounds, like talking about her mom, telling him about how they reconciled whatever it was between them that had been broken and forgotten. She talks about Johanna's romance, and how she watched it unfold firsthand. She tells him as much as she can about Jack and Bolts. She tells him about Paylor, too, though something twinges at the job offer, and she doesn't tell him about that.

She doesn't tell him about Gale, either. Of course, she tells Peeta about him going to the hospital a few times, because he got caught in the line of fire, because he strives to find it. The unnecessary details she can't seem to form with words. She'll have to tell him later – she knows that full well. But not right now. She'll tell him when it's time. Why hurt him more than necessary when she doesn't have to?

She's grateful when he doesn't bring it up. And he doesn't talk much – he only listens, taking in all her words, eyes coming alive like they do when he's excited or pleased.

"I see it," he says to her, looking at her deeply and thoughtfully. "I see your spark."

And all Katniss can think is that she's so sorry it took this long for him to be able to see it so clearly. He's said these lines to her before - but not this fervent. Not with this reverent tone in his voice. And these words that should bring her joy only bring her regret.

So she kisses him, because they both need it. They both need this raw, eager type of affection. Peeta needs this love. Because this - _this _- is a victory of the most absolute kind.

But Katniss can't shake the feeling that she's losing.

* * *

They spend the rest of the day there, inside the house, basking in the company of each other. Peeta smiles more than she remembers. He steals kisses from her like he always used to. The atmosphere slowly fades back into the normal of every day, except it's sweeter, because Katniss feels and hears and sees all of it. There is no fog around her eyes. She doesn't feel guilty for living, anymore, and it's all suddenly from a different perspective. Peeta and his radiant, golden hair. He's got old freckles, the kind that've seeped into his skin like dust. They aren't there if you don't look closely. But she can, now. His grin is classically crooked, whether he means it to be or not. He's a beauty. She wishes she was able to appreciate that more.

She offers to help him cook when the time comes, chopping up the vegetables while he chops up the meat and creates dough for biscuits. There are at least four pans going at once on the fire, and at her comment on them, he comes up to her and says, "A feast for your homecoming."

The words are warm in her ear. He comes up behind her and smiles against the side of her face, hands planting on her hips as she stirs the sauteeing vegetables. When he goes to kiss her neck, it takes all that she has not to jerk away. This is too familiar. This is intimate and close and normal, but it's now also something shared. Even as his hands squeeze her and he whispers, "God, I missed you."

And she wishes she can say it back - she wishes ardently for her voice to have the ability his does to flicker that way. With passion and love and heat. But she fears it won't. She fears that whatever she felt hours before will come to ruin _this._

And how can she do that? How can she shatter years of devotion?

So she doesn't. She turns her head and finds his lips, and kisses him hard. She slides her fingers into his hair, feeling the residue of flour from the bakery. She pushes into him and he pushes back - and his movements are surprised. She hasn't been this forceful in who knows how long, but she feels the pressure rise between them, and she feels the lightweight burn that connects them and she wonders if it's possible, is it possible - to be in love with two people?

They let whatever food is cooking burn in their pans. They move somewhere, fall onto something that cushions them, and she let's them make love in _their_ home, in_ their_ life, the walls barricading them from all the monsters banging at the doors.

And as they come together, as they hold each other close right here and right now, she wonders if she'll be eaten by all those monsters the moment she walks outside.

They lie there quietly when they're done, his fingers running up and down her arm. She's close to dozing off, exhausted and worn, more emotionally than physically. He gets up soon, to go save what he can of the dinner they were making. He persuades her to stay where she is, and she doesn't mind. She let's herself fall asleep, to keep from thinking too hard about what she's doing.

* * *

The days trickle by like leaky faucet water, every hour holding onto each other before gravity pulls them apart. It's a menacing remembrance of years past, mixing with the sluggish movement of time.

Gale goes through his daily routines just as before. Wake up, exercise, shower, work. It takes a few minor adjustments to settle in to his regular life, but he's been exposed to circumstances like these. He's had enough changes in jobs to categorize this one as a singular change, too. Going from non-caregiver to caregiver back to non-caregiver is easier to look at in the long run.

What makes it better is that the squad is as normal as ever. Work outs consist of the same runs and the same exercises. He's been able to get great running times. Some mornings he's able to sprint most of the five miles, though he admits that the first few times he had to keep himself from throwing up.

Johanna and Anton are surprisingly not as publicly affectionate as he was anticipating. There's a subtle shift between them, but he doesn't have to deal with the annoyance of walking in on make-outs behind trees or them rolling around in the grass, and he's more grateful about that than he thinks he should be.

Sometimes he goes to Paylor's office to ask if there're any disturbances, any questionable commotion in the area, anything at all. He knows it's extremely rare to have another mission so soon after one has already been solved, but it doesn't discourage him from hoping that there might be another crazy person hiding in the tall shadows of the Capitol.

She always sends him away empty handed, though she does take pity on him. That's what he calls it. Pity. She offers him more chances to travel, even if there aren't meetings or conflicts. He almost takes them, though there won't be anything he hasn't done if he goes to District 6 or 7 or 8 or wherever, so he ends up turning them down.

He knows the real reason he doesn't take the offers is because they _are_ pity offers. At first, he didn't believe it. Paylor doesn't _do_ pity - in regards to him, least of all. But he doesn't know what else to call it. And there's no emotion in the world Gale hates more.

* * *

It's been a few days. Tranquil, lazy days spent with Peeta, in the house or at the bakery. It's been a time of relearning, almost. She's been seeing the things that make him - his compassion and his unadulterated peace with the world. His smiles. How he's happy, even through everything that's happened to him. She wonders how that wasn't able to help her, sometimes. And she knows he wonders why, too. She can see the doubt in his eyes, at times, when he looks over her, when he pushes her hair out of her face. He hasn't asked, not yet, because he wants to enjoy this time. But he's going to ask, just like he's going to ask about the other things Katniss can't say. Peeta's always been able to base things on honesty and trust. He trusts her with all of this, and he trusts her to speak honestly. But he's given her time. It's what he's best at doing.

She listens to the day wake, if she slips out of bed early enough. She's brought Peeta with her, once, a long time ago. But these days, she lets him sleep. The forest has always been the one place that doesn't connect them - not just because she spent most of her life there with a different boy, but because it isn't as familiar to him as it is to her. They can't share this place as a home. He's been persistent enough to try, but every once in a while, he'll have a false flashback and he'll briefly question and briefly wonder, though he's always strong enough to look at her without the fear or the difficulty. Katniss doesn't want to put him through those falsities, so she's stopped his persistence with following her there. Ever since that time, she's been alone.

The forest isn't different than she remembers, either, her spot untouched, grass cradling her as she sits and watches the sky turn blue. It's strange when it happens - there's a shift somewhere while she watches the sun blaze a disastrous orange. It's in its eight minute incline, before she can feel its warming rays, when she hears it.

"Lying is so much easier than the truth," says a voice, and she jumps, jerking her head toward the tree several feet away from where she's sitting. She inhales sharply and blinks at his figure - because even though he's always been quiet and never fails to surprise her when he wants, he never mentioned coming to visit_ her_. It's only been five days. They've been short, a hiccup of time, and she can't fathom why he's already here, why he's...

"Because, sometimes, the truth isn't good enough," Gale says, as he continues not to look at her, a knife in one hand and wood in the other. It seems as if he's whittling something, but Katniss can only stare at the cool, calm collection of his face.

"What..."

"The only problem is..." he smirks, going to stand and making the finishing touches on whatever he's carving. He struts over to her, and he drops the item over her. She reacts by catching it in her hands, looking up at him. "...I'm not leaving."

Contradicting his words, he turns and escapes through the forestry. She breathes out, and glances hurriedly toward her palms. And the wooden carving is a heart, perfectly smooth and striated. She blinks, and it starts to wither. It starts to rot in seconds. It clumps along the lines of her hands. She glances up again, standing up and rushing forward. She calls out his name several times, but it echoes, and she can't find the entrance to the forest. She's walled in. She passes the same trees over and over, and she starts to sweat, and the rotten wood in her hands starts to flake, the wind carrying it away and then -

And then Katniss wakes up. She lies in a cold sweat, her lungs quaking as if she was really running. Peeta shifts behind her, his arm curled over her, and it should comfort her. He's been the only thing she's needed, but she can't believe that anymore. Not when she lifts her hands and expects there to be black residue. Not when she's so surprised when there isn't.

* * *

She doesn't call it pretending. It's only pretending if you don't feel anything. And Katniss feels. She feels all kinds of things. And love is one of those things, but she's noticed that it isn't effortless. It isn't easy to smile back at him, to let it grow, when she knows as each day passes, she's losing something else. Is what they have supposed to outweigh everything else? Is she not supposed to mind letting herself love him completely? Is she not supposed to care about what she's losing?

She's ignored comparing them, ignored comparing the revelations she had in the Capitol compared to all the compartmentalized emotions she's felt here in District 12 for so long. It seems unfair to compare the now new freedom of the Capitol to the prison of her home.

And it's far from a prison anymore. It's one of those things she's relearned. This is a hopeful place, and baking with Peeta establishes everything she missed out on fully being able to appreciate. But her new eyes aren't blinded by the prospects. She isn't consumed with a marathon of joy, but she wants to be. For Peeta.

It happens during one morning, when she wakes up with him and goes to open the bakery, helping with the early morning breakfast rush. Delly comes in later to help out, and she's not a moment too soon. It's supremely busy, and the time it takes Katniss to get used to it puts them a bit behind on their orders.

Peeta's talked about Delly coming in more frequently, offering to help Peeta out when he was manning the counter by himself. She didn't ask for any money or any type of payment, which was just naturally Delly. And she'd been coming in ever since. Her brother, Jacob, was now old enough to head the shoe store, and wanted to be able to get experience by himself. That was Delly's small excuse for finding herself in here, working just to work.

Delly's too kind to her. She smiles at her and jokes with her as if they've been friends all their life. It makes Katniss almost feel guilty for looking on with disdain toward her when they were younger. She was so well fed that some days, Katniss wanted to raid her house and steal food from her and her family.

After the rush passes, Katniss is more than surprised to see Hazelle walk in, taking a booth seat by a window. It reminds her that Peeta's talked about her coming in occasionally, more during this time than the whole year. It takes a moment for Hazelle to glance up and catch Katniss's eye. She doesn't look surprised, not as surprised as Katniss feels. Hazelle gives her a small smile, but Katniss reacts by looking away, acting like she has something to do behind the counter.

"I think she'd like to talk to you," says Peeta, coming up behind her. He must have noticed Hazelle before she did. She looks up at him.

"How do you know?"

Peeta smiles. "I don't. But she might want to know how Gale's doing."

Her eyes avert to the counter. "Maybe. But she only saw him a few weeks ago..."

"It's almost been three weeks since you got back," Peeta says, as if reminding her. He kisses her cheek, and she immediately feels embarrassed with Hazelle being so near and watching. "Besides," he continues. "When was the last time you two had a real conversation?"

The question has her thinking. The terrible thing is that she can't really remember. Peeta gives her an encouraging gesture, before going back and checking on something in the oven.

Katniss sighs at his back, then steels herself, walking around the counter toward Hazelle's booth.

"Hi, Hazelle," Katniss greets, trying not to feel uncomfortable under Hazelle's all-seeing stare. "Would you like something to drink, or a pastry, or..."

"No, thank you," she tells her. "But do you have a few minutes? I'd like to speak with you."

It's almost as if Peeta had been anticipating her to come in and ask. Katniss isn't very surprised, but she wishes he hadn't said anything. Then maybe Hazelle wouldn't have asked.

But that's mostly because Katniss is _dreading_ this conversation.

"Sure," she says, taking the seat across from her. "What do you want to talk about?"

She waits for her to start her next sentence with Gale. But Hazelle throws her off guard by starting with something else

"I actually wanted to tell you something, about your mom and I."

Katniss furrows her brows. "What about her?"

"We've been...communicating, these past few years," Hazelle says, smiling at Katniss's confusion. "She had contacted me when she started working in the Capitol. She was concerned, for Gale. And she wanted to notify me about how he was and how he was doing. He was in the hospital so often." Hazelle looks at the table top a bit wistfully. "We've always had a fierce protection over both of you. She had asked me if we could both keep in touch, every once in a while, with updates on how each of you were doing. I had no problem with it. I'd been keeping my eye on you since we got back from the war."

"Oh..." Katniss breathes, not truly knowing what to say. "My mom...I met up with her in the Capitol. She didn't mention any of that."

"It was something we decided to keep to ourselves," she answers, a knowing look gracing her features. "Your mother didn't think it would be wise to have you know she was still looking after you, through me. And I didn't want Gale to worry about me knowing about all the scrapes he got into." She shakes her head. "You know how he is. He doesn't like to brag about what he does."

Katniss holds back a smile at that. He never was one to let on how much he hurt. She almost forgot that he had broken ribs when she was with him.

"He's not very careful with himself," she allows, looking up to Hazelle. "But how come you're letting me know this now? If it's a secret..."

Hazelle smiles at her. "I called your mom when I noticed you arrived a few weeks ago. I wanted to let her know you made it alright. She called me yesterday, and she told me the next time I saw you, to let you know that Gale hasn't landed in the hospital, yet. She guessed you would have been thinking about him."

Katniss laughs a little. It comes out slightly nervous.

"I'm glad he's doing okay."

Hazelle glances over her thoughtfully. Her eyes gleam at her statement. "So, I take it you two made up?"

Her stomach recoils at Hazelle's sudden change in demeanor.

Katniss blinks. "Um, my mom didn't tell you?"

"Some. But I want to hear it from you."

Katniss suddenly wonders if Peeta's watching them. "We're friends, again."

Hazelle looks at her for a while before she hums. "You let him down easy, I hope?"

Katniss almost turns to stone in her seat, until she realizes that this is Hazelle, and Hazelle _knows. _That, and her mom probably told her everything she knew. Katniss almost hesitates to say anything, because this_ is_ Hazelle. They've always had a silent pact between themselves and surviving. She doesn't truly know her, besides for being Gale's mom and helping to provide for her. They've never had such a direct conversation about this. It was always only implied.

"I don't...I don't know if there _was_ an easy way."

Hazelle doesn't look surprised at her answer. "Maybe not. But it's always easy to know when you love someone." She glances over toward Peeta, who's making some kind of pastry, talking to Delly, who's in between serving patrons. "And as long as you're with who you love, and you're happy about it, Gale's going to let you go. He can be chivalrous when he wants to be." Hazelle laughs lightly.

Katniss's face contorts at her words. She knows full well Gale will let go, if he hasn't been in the process of it. She keeps feeling that black residue on her hands. She keeps seeing him when she sleeps.

"But it's not easy," she ends up saying. "To know when you love someone."

Hazelle stares at her for a moment. "Do you love Peeta?"

"Yes," she answers automatically. "But - "

"You see, Katniss?" She reaches out and places one hand over hers. "It _is_ easy. You didn't hesitate."

"But - I've been wondering," she tries, not sure about the words she's grasping for. "Can you love someone more than someone else?"

Hazelle's eyes soften. "Yes," she says slowly. "But you can also be _in_ love with someone, while only loving someone else."

Is that what happened? Katniss looks back to Hazelle before letting her eyes fall to their hands. It would help explain things. Loving one with her mind and loving one with both her mind _and_ her heart. To be fully encompassed by something so frightening and by something so unforced and fluid. By something that crept up on her or by something that had always been there.

She takes a breath, and she stares into the dark, grey eyes of Hazelle.

The first step is to accept it. That's the beginning of many things. Then she'll have to let it push her, and she has to let herself fall.

* * *

It takes her a few days to build up courage to broach the topic with Peeta. It isn't because she's scared of it, anymore - in fact, she's become sure of this. She'll be able to talk to him, as candidly and honestly as she can, knowing that he'll understand. There's just something about this place. This has been her home, forever. They rebuilt this place from ashes. And she could live here, as content as she's been this past month, without regretting to spend the rest of it here with him. She's happy to cook with him and work with him, and maybe she'd be okay with having a family with him, far down the future.

Because she loves him. Because she'd happily devote her life to him just as he's devoted his life to her. And she loves this place. And she loves how easy it is to survive, weeks passing and dissolving into the past like raindrops. That's one of the things she's noticed here. This place eats time. It's already been a month, but she can't distinguish days from each other. And somehow, that makes it simple, easy. It makes it become effortless where it hadn't been before.

Peeta is good for her. He'll always be good for her. But he'll be good to any woman he falls in love with. Any girl will love him. His love is never half-hearted.

And wouldn't the truly unfair thing be to give him a life with a girl who couldn't provide him with all that she is?

He had asked her about what Hazelle said to her that day, after they closed the bakery, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him. Not everything. She had wanted to enjoy a few more days with him, as selfish as that might have been. But as they're about to go to bed, one of those nights out of many, she sits next to him.

She says, "Peeta?"

He glances over to her, his simple smile fading at something he sees. It looks like he knows.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just..." she stops. "I didn't tell you all of what Hazelle and I talked about. We talked about...loving two people. And I wasn't sure if that's what I was feeling, at first. I didn't want to think that." She finds herself scooting closer to him, but he's already turning resigned. She's barely said a word, and he looks like he lost. She forces herself to continue to gaze up at him.

"But...it turns out that that's not true. I don't just love two people. I'm in love with one of them. And I wish I could tell you that it was you. I wish it so badly," she rushes to say, throat already filming with remorse. "You've done so much for me, and I can't - I can't give it back."

Peeta watches her start to cry, an arm wrapping around her waist while the other catches in her hair as his fingers comb through it.

"I couldn't be the one to make you better," he answers her, eyes deceptively neutral. "I tried. God, did I try. I wanted you to smile without it being some kind of chore, and every once in a while, a rare one would show. But not every day. And I wanted to make you happy, happier than you'd ever been. It's my fault," he says, smiling a melancholy, crooked smile. "I should have kept trying. But then Gale came back into town, and I wondered...if you were able to forgive the one person you blamed everything on, it might help. It might do all the things I couldn't achieve by myself. Just a little. You might not forgive the Capitol or the people, and you might still be bitter, but it was a chance I was willing to risk." He wipes at a stray tear that falls down her cheek. She can't say anything.

"I knew what might happen. I knew that living somewhere else and feeling different things and seeing the new world might make you ache for that kind of freedom. I knew Gale still loved you. I knew he'd fight for your well-being, but that was okay. He was your friend, and I trusted that."

"But Peeta," Katniss croaks. Peeta hushes her, kissing her cheek, then kissing her forehead.

"I knew. That week and a half was hard to go through. I thought about you every hour of each day. But I held onto the hope that by letting you go, maybe you'd be that happy girl I wanted you to be. You'd be the girl on fire that I loved so much. You'd be Katniss Everdeen, again." He kisses her other cheek this time, and she almost can't take it. "And when you walked unannounced through the bakery doors a month ago, I saw that same look in your eye I had only seen glimpses of in the past five years. And I knew," he emphasizes, his grip on her tightening. "I knew that this was the best decision I ever made."

It turns out Katniss didn't have to say much of anything after all. This whole month of wondering how to say it, how to talk about it, how to let him know. And how she didn't have to.

It makes her question why he thought he deserved her - why he's put so much effort into something he knew he might not get back, like a painting he works so hard on, only to sell. But that doesn't mean she doesn't understand what he feels. This rip and this break won't be clean, won't be a seamless cut down the middle.

She's never hoped so hard about something in one singular moment. In one second. Besides Prim dying, this might be the worst tragedy she's had to go through. But it's funny, because Peeta isn't going to die, and he isn't going to traipse through broken concrete and rebuild anything he lost. He might go through grief, and he might hurt for a while. But Peeta is nothing if not resilient. He has the heart of a lion. And he loves her enough to let her be happy, even if it's not with him.

"I'm glad you made me go," she whispers into his chest. "You were the first one to believe in me. And you were right."

She leans up and kisses him, for one of the final times, putting all of her gratitude in the action. She hopes he feels it, knows he will as soon as she thinks it. He's the person that's known her the best these few years, and she hangs onto him for just a while longer, to remember _this_.

To remember what it felt like at the beginning. To remember what it feels like at the end.

* * *

It's been a goddamn month. Gale doesn't look at calendars or watches, but he can't force himself to ignore the timestamps on contracts or the dates of meetings. It doesn't feel like it's been a month. It feels like it's been a year. Days are weeks now, and weeks are months. Years must be decades.

He's ignored the guest room so far, but it's the little things that eat at him. Like how he realized she used his shampoo her entire visit. Or when he used a different pillow when he slept, and it smelled like him - but there was something different about it. She lingered there, and he could tell - just the barest of scents. The barest scent of a girl. He had thrown it across the room, and he's left it lying there, though her stench has more than likely left it. Either way, his apartment _reeks_ of her.

He tends to stay out late – either in his office after hours or stalling at the block of bars downtown. It's supposed to make time go faster. Staying in his apartment would make him go stir-crazy. And crazy. And insane. Before he knows it, he'll be talking to ghosts.

He frequents one bar - not Eddie's. That place is almost as bad as his apartment.

The bar he goes to is the one on the far corner of the block, the words _Dead Horse_ spelled out in fine, red lines. It's less lighted than Eddie's, less open armed. Statues of horse heads stand on each side of the entrance like gargoyles, bearing the same height as the entry door. It's more for a sinister decoration than anything else. They have beady eyes that follow the people who walk by, to fend off the weak of heart. The place has a 'reputation', but it's nothing that Gale's ever taken seriously. He's been there before, after really bad days at work or when he's over his anger limit from a meeting or some odd disagreement he was close to winning. He'd more than likely start a fight with someone, or he'd drink until he'd burn out some of his liver. He hasn't needed the place in a while, and as it's reputation consists of rowdiness, a penchant for getting stabbed, and a smoky, questionable atmosphere, it's the perfect place for the down-and-outers, the creeps, and the men with too many tattoos.

It's safe to say that the only tragedy about the place is that there are never any women there. Usually. He's heard stories.

It takes a while for him to start feeling the effects of the whiskey. They've got nasty bourbon here – it's rough in his stomach and it's almost enough to make him sweat.

It's a lot better than beer. He's not exactly sure why he drinks beer in the first place.

He hears the first wolf whistle on his second drink, the jeers on his third, and when he finally takes a gander over his shoulder to see what all the fuss is about, he shouldn't be surprised to see a woman sitting at the bar, trying to fend off a few leering men like annoying flies. Typical. Just because there's not supposed to be a woman here, there manages to be one.

Generally, in a situation like this, Gale would swoop in and be a gentleman, taking out a man or two if the situation demanded. It would be a sure way to take the girl home, receive a thank you fuck, and be on his way.

But tonight, Gale's not going to do that. He turns away from the scene, not feeling motivation for any saving. He's never witnessed a girl to be stupid enough to make her way in this bar, but the surprise ebbs away as the interested shouting gets louder at the front of the bar. He wishes he cared, but the worst thing that could happen would be in consequence of the girl's own lack of intelligence. She asked for it. The best thing is an unending supply of free drinks thrown her way.

Gale finishes a fourth whiskey, waiting for any type of effect. It's been harder and harder to get drunk. He doesn't think it's because he's been abusing alcohol more often in these past four weeks, but his tolerance has always been on the high side.

He doesn't think it's because he took Johanna's words to heart – not really. He scoffs. He prepared himself to be alone. It only happens to be harder than the first time. And maybe that's because all the ill feelings have been dissolved between them. The pain he feels is magnified because he can't hide behind any anger. It's a losing battle.

Never did he think he'd miss the anger. He stares at the newly replenished brown, semi-opaque color in his glass. He's become so pathetic. It'd make him mad if he had enough energy to_ be_ mad. He takes his glass in hand and raises it in salute to the date. Four weeks to the day she's been a thousand miles away. And it might be a milestone. If he can wake up with a massive enough hangover and still get to work, he'll finally start to get somewhere. That's the point. He's got no reason to be like this, _really_, but it's hard to switch off wanting what you want. Once he stops wanting, he'll seize the day and find a wife.

He shoots the glass back, feeling the warmth coalesce at the back of his neck. He heaves a sigh and caps the bottle of whiskey he bought, going to stand. He rolls his shoulder and turns toward the exit, having to pass the bar. By this time, there aren't many men there, and most have scattered away from the lady for whatever reason. Her face isn't ugly – far from. And even if she was ugly, the guys that frequent here wouldn't care. She's got that wavy, dirty blond hair. Lip gloss makes her lips shine under the smoke and the lights. Her jeans are like paint, she's wearing fuck-me heels, and her top is easily filled.

Gale thinks about it, defying his previous thoughts. He guesses she can hold her own if she hasn't already stumbled off with a stranger, though several eyes are still on her, strategizing on how to force her out of here.

Gale stops when he steps on a discarded sugar packet on the ground. It's still full, dirty and trampled, and it's labeled _Sweet Thing_. He leans over and picks it up, and as he passes the girl, he tosses it in front of her, and he says, "You dropped your nametag."

He doesn't wait for her reaction as he continues to walk. It turns out that he doesn't have to.

"Hey, wait!"

He almost grumbles under his breath. He stops against all the better judgment he still has. He looks over and finds her standing in front of him, eyes a startling olive green. She scans him, then she smiles.

"I know you."

Gale answers with a leering look. "It was a sugar packet. You don't have to pretend."

Her mouth curls up to evolve into a smirk, and places a hand on her hip. Gale watches it. She's very curvy. He has a mind to think that she'd get in a taxi with him. Gale knows he's attractive enough to get whoever he wants.

"No," she says. "I do know you, even if you weren't trying to hit on me."

"Then who am I?"

"You," she says, pointing for emphasis. "Are the guy who secretly saves the Capitol."

He raises his eyebrows. "Have you been spying on me?"

She giggles. "No. My dad works at the District Commerce Chamber. He tells me about you."

He absently wonders if he knows her dad. Then realizes he hopes he doesn't. "Good things, I hope. Miss…"

"Call me Catalina," she answers, and she has this tilt of her head and eyes that are so vivacious, he wants to just…

"Catalina." He drawls out the syllables against his tongue and glances around, catching eyes with a few of the intimidating patrons that don't _look_ very intimidating. He holds up his whiskey bottle at her. "What's a nice girl like you doing here?"

"Long story," she says, annoyance under her breath. "I don't really want to go into details…"

"I hate the fine print, myself," he winks, gaining him another smile. He forgets how easy this dance can be. He's almost missed it. Having a girl slip like this for him, flutter her eyes like she's trying to catch him, too. "You know…I'm getting extremely drunk tonight." He takes a step toward her. "Want to join me?"

It takes her no persuading. For some girls, it takes a more aggressive approach. A longer battle, flirtation, and easy charm.

But it seems they're both pliable tonight. She might be running away from something, too, but Gale doesn't care. As long as he gets what he wants - finally something he can have for a night. It's been too long since he's done this. Why'd he wait so long?

And she's wonderful. It doesn't take much for her to react. She's incredibly responsive to his touches, and Gale appreciates it. She's so distracting with her movements and with her delicate sighs, her moans. She's like an eraser, how she travels around him like she does, her skin and body taking up residence in his bed and his apartment. Her hair coats his sheets, and her eyes cloud his vision, and for moments at a time, his mind is blank enough to think of nothing.

He is free. Katniss is gone. Catalina will cover up her scent.

This is the beginning.

* * *

sasha: i mostly named the chapter not because of the song, but because leaving someone/someones that love you can kill some of the spirit inside them, for a little while. people are leaving me for college. i feel like i'm dying. even though i know i'll see them again, i can't help but wonder if it'll be the same. i tried to incorporate my feelings in the chapter ;)

everyturn: NO. IT'S NOT WEIRD. it makes me excited that you almost cried. (and _that's_ weird.) ;) Yeah. Gale was ROBBED. Sort of. haha. And yeah, this is coming to a close soon. i think maybe two more chapters. there might be more, but i'm not sure. (: you're so sweet! i'm so happy you enjoy them so much. but it's definitely going to be weird to finally finish this. i've been writing this for what seems like forever now. not having it is going to take some time for me to adjust, haha.

Jamie: that chapter was pretty serious. Guess why it took me so long to post it. ;) and thank you so much! writing that one was almost like a workout. haha, i'm glad i'm not the only one that glares at the books. but i bet this one makes up for her indecision? she seems pretty sure now. i'm so proud of her. she's _growing up_, omg. but yeah, now maybe two more chapters. it's been so fun writing (albeit challenging and at other times, i absolutely detested), but i'm going to miss it, too. i'm going to do my best to make it as satisfying as i can. (: and never apologize for review length! i love long reviews.

Rebeca: i think it's so cool that you're from madrid. i hope this chapter helped with knowing her doubts and her denial and decisions. and Peeta's too nice to be real. let's be honest.

Guest: you're even more fabulous.

Other Guest: next chapter!

Wahh: i hope it picks up the pieces. ;)

mae: I actually wanted to make Gale a little more mean to Katniss in that chapter. but figured, it was her last day, and he couldn't stay completely cold the whole time. hot make out scenes? is that what you said? how did you know that's what's going to happen?! working out this Peeta problem took me a few nights. hopefully it's decent. ;) anddd yep. bread. he's gonna keep bakin'.

Nicole: you're welcome. :D and you're not emo, don't worry.

m: it's funny how you said a month... ;) and thank you! this chapter isn't as long, but i think it's all set up for their reunion, now.

Katy: thank you!(: hope you enjoyeddd.

Ceese: hahaha. (:


	26. heart skipped a beat

a/n; i think everyone knows what's happening in this chapter. i mean, it only took 200K words. so if sex makes you squeamish or smut isn't your thing, only read the beginning, because that's what contains most of the story drama. the rest is ridiculous. i'm serious. this is smut city, y'all. and the next chapter is an epilogue of sorts - though, it's not the end, not _really_. ;)

chapter twenty-six – heart skipped a beat

heart skipped a beat  
and when i caught it, you were out of reach  
but i'm sure, i'm sure  
you've heard it before – heart skipped a beat, the xx

* * *

It doesn't take Anton long to procure her another jet. He's jubilant on the other end of the line, telling her she sure took her time in cutting it close. It's funny how she knows exactly what he means. That black residue fades fast. It gives her the immediate sense of urgency.

She shoves whatever clothes that occupy her dresser into her bags. She doesn't have that many clothes to begin with, and she makes sure to take everything, just for the sake of taking them. So Peeta won't have to deal with all the physical things once she's gone.

She chooses not to tell anyone goodbye, mostly because it's different here. She can come back, when she wants to. She already knows that District 12 will always be her home, and it will always be welcome.

So for this reason, she slips quietly away mid-morning when the plane arrives. She only tells goodbye to Peeta, who leaves the house just like every day to open the bakery. He doesn't give her any signs, though she's able to decipher it. She tries to erase her thoughts when she closes the door. This isn't time for sadness.

The pilot tells her she'll get there about noon. That's three hours. But as they tick by on the jet, her stomach tightens more and more. It scrapes against her spine. She's so nervous, and she doesn't know why. She thinks she might be excited, too. But she's not sure. Half the ride, she feels like she's flying to her death. It might be because she's never_ been_ anxiously excited before.

If there's a distinct difference between this feeling and death, she can't tell.

* * *

If there's one thing Gale's learned in his years of lady killing, it's this: never, under any circumstances, bring your lady friend to your apartment. It's always safer, that way. By taking them to her house, he can wake up before her and slither out of her house with her being none the wiser. There's never any awkward morning blues to be dealt. There's never any desperate clinging or that strange, made-up affection.

He moans when he wakes up, feeling the adversity immediately behind his eyes. His head throbs like an earthquake, and his mouth's all dry, his tongue and the roof of his mouth grinding like sandpaper.

Why the fuck did he want to get so drunk – and why didn't he just go to that chick's house – what's her name –

One hand moves up to cover his eyes while the other falls to the side of the bed. It's pleasantly cool. He exhales and crosses his fingers – please don't let her be in the bathroom, doing that weird thing where they reapply makeup, or don't be in the living room, or, for the love of God, don't be making –

Then he smells it. The horrific stench. _Coffee._

His stomach wheels with angry nausea. He hisses under his breath. "Shit."

Doesn't she have to work, or something? Then he has the mind to reach over to his desk and fumble for his phone. It lights up and tells him it's almost midday. It makes his temple pound even harder. What did he do, drown in the whiskey last night?

He untangles the bed covering from his ankles, making his way into the living room. He glares toward the kitchen, watching as she comes around the doorway with two cups. When she sees him, she beams.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up – "

"Why the hell are you still here?" he interrupts, oafishly.

She blinks at his tone, her mouth shrinking into a small line. "Well, I thought…"

He watches her struggle, eyes examining her mercilessly. He guesses he can see what he saw in her last night. She looks clean (which makes him think she might have taken a shower. He grimaces at the thought), and her hair is nice. It's long. Kind of wavy. Her eyes are big, and she can wear clothes (and because she dressed, it makes him hopeful that she'll leave). But she's nowhere _near _– not even _close_ –

He shuts his eyes briefly. God, _when_ is he going to stop comparing?

"I have to get to work," he says, short and clipped. "I would appreciate it if you left."

Her eyes grow, and she assumes the likeness to a bug.

"But don't you want to – "

"No," he says. Then he goes to the door and pulls it open, looking at her. Then he gestures out the door deliberately.

She tries to iron out her back, placing the coffee cups down onto the nearest surface she finds. Then she picks up the rest of the dignity she has left – along with her purse that's lying on the floor. She musters her best glare – he guesses – at him, flicks back her hair, and leaves without another word.

He's not sure what she was expecting. She's probably never done this before. He just…doesn't care.

He goes to slam the door on her pretty back, when he hears her say something. It sounds suspiciously like, "You too? Don't bother." Then the door cracks on its hinges as it clicks back.

Gale sighs, turning to head to the bathroom to find some salvation – like pain killers or something for migraines. Coffee doesn't help him. He thinks he might just need a few buckets of water to drink. Or maybe a start would be to brush his teeth.

When there's a knock on his door, his blood pressure sky rockets. His hands stumble with the medicine bottles he has, checking each one for the name. He ignores the knocking as much as he can, kicking back the pills when he finally finds them, then splashing his face with cold water.

But when the fourth round of knocking comes and the girl doesn't cease, he trudges over to the door and jerks it open.

"What the fuck do you – "

He stops, and he blinks, because _Katniss_ is standing there, holding some kind of luggage bag, eyes wide with some kind of emotion, but all he can really think is –

"Why the _hell_ are you here?"

She doesn't seem fazed by his anger or annoyance or disbelief. She, undaunted, takes a step forward.

"Gale – "

He tightens his hands on the doorway, acting like a barricade. He glares menacingly at her.

"Why," he says, voice already growing thick with this kind of terrible, angered despair. It creeps up his throat. His neck thumps with hard working veins. "Are you here?"

She opens her mouth, just a part. It's a sharp oval. He hates, absolutely detests that he's already beginning to crumble. She doesn't have to do anything at all, and he's crumbling.

He blames his hangover. It's truly a bitch.

She opts not to say a word. She takes another step, and the hair prickles on his arms. Her eyes dart down to his stomach – and he has barely a mind to think that all he's wearing is black briefs. In his defense, that was the only thing he found to keep himself decent. He can't really believe he actually took the time out to put _anything_ on. But her eyes linger on him, and he wonders for one sarcastic second if the past month of binge drinking and running ridiculous times down the forest trail shows.

When she finally speaks, she looks back up to him. "It's healed. Your stomach."

He blinks, retaining his glare. "What do you _want _from me, Katniss? You _aren't_ supposed to be here."

He wants her to go. He wants her to go so badly.

As she continues to gaze, her eyes sway a shade. They've got this_ look_ in them. He can't place it. She's never looked at him this way before.

She steps forward one more time, and she's very close. He stands his ground, because if she breaks into his apartment, it might be all over with. He'll forget that he's started to hate her, forget that he hurts inside. And worst of all, he'll forget that he shouldn't trust her. Not with himself. He's tried so hard these past few weeks that he's not sure if he'll be able to seal up another broken ship.

He's hunched a little. She takes the offered opportunity and pushes up against her toes, just brushing her lips against his before he jerks back and straightens to full height. He looks down at her with a stunned incredulousness, unable to form a stable coherency.

"Stop – " he breathes. "You can't _do_ that – "

But she looks on at him, her face holding that impenetrable resolve. It reminds him of the look she'd get when they hadn't seen a deer in weeks, back in 12, and they'd hunt it down relentlessly. They never failed when she looked this way. Then again, he had the resolve, too, but…

It strikes him that he might be the deer.

Her hand grazes his stomach, over where his bullet hole used to be. It scalds him, and it takes all that he has to not back away. When she places her whole palm on him, it's like being pressed against a burner.

He almost sweats.

"Leave," he says, and it comes out pleading. It comes out not like him at all. "Leave, before I – "

"Before you what?"

It's a heavy whisper. The only full sentence she's said. She moves her hand up, middle finger falling into the dip forming into his chest.

He almost trembles. But he forces himself to knock her hand away, squinting at her with his last dregs of hangover hate. "What happened? Did you and Peeta have a fight, or something? Is that why you suddenly decided to show up?"

She's so calm about this. Why is she so calm about this? He really hopes that this isn't what he thinks this is, because if it is –

"No," she answers. "I left. I don't need him anymore, and he doesn't need me."

He examines her, trying not to believe but becoming hopelessly hopeful. "You left?"

"I realized," she says, hand finding the same spot on his skin, traveling down, then traveling up. His mind starts to fog over, but he shakes it away. It should tickle. But her touch is more paralyzing than playful. "I could live the rest of my life without him, but I couldn't live a day longer without you."

It's probably the most poetic thing he's ever heard her say. Unfortunately, the impact of it doesn't hit until later. So instead, he hears himself question, "Are you going to leave here again?"

She smiles sadly, and she plucks her hand away from him. "Only if you want me to."

It's true. Nothing in her eyes is a lie.

He should protect himself. He should. He should close the door on her. But he's already closed the door – slammed the door – on some other girl, and she'd never matter like Katniss does. Would one ever matter like she does?

It's a chance he'll take. And he's good at risks. Besides, it's only him. If he screws up his judgment, he'll only have himself to blame.

He steps away from the door, leaving it open to her. She grips her luggage in one of her hands and she steps through the threshold, smiling up at him. It's a toothy smile, open and wide, and it's gorgeous. He almost goes to her, right then, but the rusty, old shackles of restraint keep him where he is.

"Did you want to talk about it?" he asks, crossing his arms. "About Peeta?"

She gives him a funny look, forgetting about her luggage and walks up to him, and then it's suddenly the exact same scene as it was at the doorway.

"No, I don't. There's nothing to talk about."

It contains finality. An attractive freedom. It rushes through him with a terrible consistency.

"Okay," he whispers.

Then a small smile curls up half of her mouth. Her fingers and eyes run down the hard lines of his abdomen before falling to the flexible line of his briefs. He tries not to act like it's a big deal.

"I know now why Reeva liked briefs."

He never thought he'd see Katniss look at his body with appreciation before. Not his face, not his chest, not his anything. She was such a stone when it came to good-looks or attraction. But he sees it now, feeling the light touches of the pads of her fingers, and it's almost embarrassing how satisfied it makes him feel.

The light flirtation in her voice doesn't go unnoticed. When did she start flirting? She's never had a reason to, before.

He lets his hands land on her hips. He inhales.

"You do, huh?"

She carelessly tugs at them. "Yeah, I do." Then she pushes up on her toes again, and she's only able to reach his neck. She kisses it and it feels like an experiment in the way she does it. He involuntarily brings her closer against him.

"Katniss – " he says, closing his eyes. "I fucked a girl not twelve hours ago. I don't think you'd like – "

"So?" she says. "She didn't matter."

She's so flippant in the way she says it, and she's so persistent and warm and forward (which floors him, because Katniss was always so weird about giving affection). But her words are all the assurance he needs. Maybe he'll ask her about details later, as long as she doesn't run away. As long as this risk doesn't shatter him completely.

He takes her head in his hands and finds her lips. Her mouth's already open, and he takes no time in tasting her again – that time in the hospital, as vivid as it used to be, was starting to fade. It was a good thing. It made thinking of her less desirous, less longing, but now she's even sweeter than she used to be. It's almost as if she's ripened, ready and eager and willing, hands clawing at his shoulders and pulling herself up, trying to get closer. He holds her up by her hips, then moves one forearm under her bottom, her legs automatically suctioning around his waist. Her hands crawl into his hair, and she pulls as viciously as she explores his mouth with her tongue. She makes a noise when he bites her lip, and she presses into him so hard that he stumbles back and hits a wall – though he's not sure when he managed to move around the room. He moves off her mouth and to her neck, breath coming out of her fast. She cranes her head to give him all the skin she can.

"We should – " he breathes, in between kisses. "Find somewhere to…"

"Floor," she moans. "Carpet…something. Couch."

He moves down to the area where her shirt obstructs the continuation of her shoulder. He growls.

"Bed."

She makes an incoherent mumble and starts kissing him again. He blindly tries to make his way to the bedroom hallway, falling into some walls in the process. She's so distracting – he's not sure how he makes it to his room. But the atmosphere of it makes him stop, and he bites on her a little harder than he means to. But she mewls in response, and he's certain that means she likes it.

"Not here," he says into her neck. "Other – room."

She starts to protest. "You room, though, I want – "

"There will be plenty of time for that later."

She squeezes him harder with her thighs, nodding quickly. "Yeah – yeah, okay, other room."

He gets them there, eventually, falling gratefully into the mattress he hadn't touched in the month of time she was gone. She's everywhere, now, not just underneath him, and he loves how he's so immersed in her – he almost thinks that the agony was worth feeling this exponential build up, this – this heat. He's on fire, burning with this indescribable, manic need.

He's tugged on her shirt so much that the threads are permanently loosened. It hangs off her shoulder, and she could care less. He's been biting her like he wants to consume her, but she could hardly mind that. Sometimes they're frivolous bites, but they're mostly needy, possessive bites that will surely leave all kinds of markings. She could hardly mind that, either. It's distinctly primal, and she scratches him whenever she feels the barest amount of pain - but he's careful about that. Or maybe he isn't trying to be careful, though it's always on the edge, right on the line between passionate and agonizing. It makes her stomach twinge in a way that stops her from running her hands wherever she can on him, putting just enough room between them to jerk her shirt over her head.

She fidgets when he halts his ministrations, leaning on his elbows, his gaze glassy and shrouded, but very sharp in the way he looks at her. If her heart wasn't beating so fast, his stare would make it spike by itself. She's too hot to know if she's flushing.

He sighs after a while, and it's deep and content. More content than she's ever heard him.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to look at you?"

The words echo through her. She reaches up and pushes back the loose bangs from his forehead. She never realized, perhaps like she's never realized about his physique, but she likes the thickness of his hair. She likes the cowlick that borders somewhere along his hairline.

"No," she answers honestly. "I don't."

He doesn't seem to hear her. He lets one of his hands hover over her stomach before he lowers it onto her skin, the warmth from his hand leaving a trail from the line of her pants to her bra line, over her bra line to her chest. She wants to hold her breath, but her heart can't slow down.

She suddenly feels very nervous. He's going to see her imperfections, though she knows they won't matter to him, but this anticipation is catastrophic to her health. She can feel the gleam in his eye as it roves over her, then the contradicting warmth and chill when he kisses her breast bone, continuing to the dip between her breasts. He pauses, then glances up to her, and she thinks she knows what he wants, because she wants it, too. She arches her back off the mattress, and his arms curl underneath her, finding the binding of her bra. In a flick, it loosens, and she's able to immediately breathe easier. But there's also the strange anxiety, again, just like on the plane ride here. She's hardly half naked, and this is only Gale - he's seen a nude woman several times. The fact, however, doesn't make what's happening any less nerve-wracking.

He peels the piece off of her, eyes still on her as he continues to kiss her, leaving her breast bone for her breast - and she's not sure where all the nerves go, in the moment his tongue teases around her.

"Gale..." she hums out, hand racing to the back of his head, forcing him to stay, though there's no need. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and she's so sensitive and tender that his tongue keeps pulling all these noises out of her, muffled, sometimes strangled noises, but she doesn't care because he reacts when she makes them, does some strange little touch that catches her by surprise, that makes her involuntarily gasp each time.

He pays as much attention to her other breast, one hand trying to unclasp her pants. She hurries to help him, trying to shimmy out of them while keeping one hand tangled in his hair.

He groans when his fingers hit the top of her underwear. Her breath hitches at the contact, and she squirms, pushing her hip harder into his hand.

"Please," she begs, though she's not completely sure why she says it. But Gale seems to, as he removes his mouth from her breast, the chill of the air already seeming to burn the tender and swollen nipple. He catches her eye, keeping it as one of his fingers finds a way under the fabric of her panties. She reaches down and presses one hand against his, trying to force him to take them off. He resists.

"Gale," she breathes.

He answers by moving his mouth to her stomach, tongue finding her belly button for a moment, her eyes seeing dots for a second, before continuing on his way down. It takes her a minute to realize what he's probably going to do, once he reaches the top of her underwear.

His finger is still underneath the cotton hanging on her hip, and without hesitating (and because she can no longer talk) he slips the fabric off just like that, and without any preamble - he forgoes licking her leg for later - he starts to lick _her_.

"_Oh,_" she moans, feather light in the heated air. She's engrossed in all that he's doing, mind fuzzy with sensation. Him, with his tongue pressing against all the sensitive flesh, wet on wet, all the bundled nerves crackling under his mouth. He changes, every once in a while, opting to suck on whatever he wants to - she can hardly tell. He'll be more on the right or the left or, she arches, the middle. He takes his time on her there, his tongue catching against her clit or his teeth - sometimes, they graze her or slip past swollen flesh, and it's - she just - she bites hard on her lip, and she might make a noise, but she doesn't care because she's so close to losing it.

When his tongue slips inside her, her stomach clenches every muscle she's ever had. He pushes along her walls, and he touches her with gentle pressure, little flicks. It's as silky inside her as it is when he's inside her mouth. There's friction, too. But there's pressure. So much pressure, she thinks she's going to burst. She blindly finds his head, gripping his hair.

"Gale - I'm - it's - "

He pulls out of her when she starts stuttering, her legs falling off his shoulders (when did they get there?), and she almost whines at the feeling. But his lips are shiny, and his eyes are very dark, hair in a scattered disarray that makes her want to get up and take his briefs off and force him down onto the bed.

So that's what she does. She sits up onto her knees, and she darts out her hands to grip his shoulders before he moves anywhere else. She goes to turn him, but she has to kiss him first. She has to kiss his shiny, wet, gorgeous lips, and she presses against his mouth ferociously, finding his tongue and sucking it with her own, as best she can, trying to pull out pleasure from him - verbal, noisy pleasure.

Much to her dismay, and complete, happy surprise, he pulls away from her, instead, his hands dropping behind her and grabbing her bottom, thumbs kneading it before pushing her up against his arousal. She moans into his mouth, entirely taken with what it feels like to rub against him - what it must feel like without his damn briefs on - what he's going to feel like deep, deep all the way in her, all the way -

Her thoughts disappear as he glides her up and down, against the fabric, the hardness behind it rubbing in between her thighs, against all the wet skin, rubbing, up and down and - she can't seem to get her hands on those briefs, hiding him away from her. Her arms are too loose and unaccommodating and limp. All she's able to do is place them against his chest, held up by their closeness, hands forming fists. Then he slowly lowers them, finding his way above her again, and she's just so frustrated.

"Gale - underwear - " It's easier to move her arms this way, and she's able to push past the fog to find the fabric, slipping her hand just underneath, grazing her fingers against him and curling them around him before his whole body shudders above her. He makes a guttural sound in her ear, and she takes the opportunity to taste his neck like he's been doing so much to her, biting him a little, licking him a little, rubbing his length a little. A little a lot. And once she starts, she doesn't want to stop. She's so excited to touch him, so mystified by how his body shakes and trembles by only her hand.

She's also excited to find that Johanna hadn't been joking.

"Katniss," he sighs into her ear, struggling to say anything else. He tenses as she adds pressure, running her fingers from his base to his tip, trying to memorize what he feels like in the action. She wishes she could see his face, see what he looks like every time she feels his muscles tense or when he relaxes, only to tense again. But she can only feel the rush of his hot breath against her cheek, falling into her ear like quick caresses. She reaches down with her other hand, forcing his underwear down as far as she can make it go. He moves, too, and they're both able to get it at his knees before she arches her hips up, just slightly, just to see if she can feel him where she wants to feel him.

And she does. The contact is small, but he slides enough against her to pull a noise from her. She hears him sharply inhale beside her ear before he shifts and reaches for the nightstand off to their side, fumbling around for whatever he suddenly needs. When he appears back in her vision, he's holding something, ripping off the packaging as fast as he can. As soon as she sees the condom, she grabs it out of his hand and throws it across the room.

"No," she says.

He recovers a second later, eyes steeling.

"I'm not getting you pregnant today, Katniss. I don't want to make you regret this."

"I'm not going to regret this," she says, moving up to kiss him. "I just want to feel you."

"But..." he mumbles, trying and failing to resist her advances. "You're not thinking straight..."

"I'll drink those herbs my mom told me about back in 12." She pulls herself up, gripping around his shoulders. "If it makes you feel better."

He answers with a light moan, hands finding her bottom again and pushing her against him, easily pacified by her suggestion. She keens at the impact, the sensation of rubbing him without the briefs outstanding her expectations. She wraps her legs around his hips and closes her eyes, her patience running thin until she finally blurts,

_"Gale."_

Like_ that._ Not when she says it like _that_. He can't hold onto that sliver of functioning he was somehow able to maintain until now.

He shifts, placing himself right before her entrance, and he finds her face with his eyes. Her eyes open when she feels it, watching him, half-lidded, pupils dilated and boring into his own. Then he pushes slowly, filling her and feeling her, her warmth and tightness almost too much - too much to handle. The sensation forces his eyelids to drop, but he opens them quickly, to watch her face, to witness the beauty of her most vulnerable moments.

When he's fully inside of her, her heels tighten against him and compels him to stay there, for a few sweet, slow seconds. She hums some ridiculously heady sound, heels falling limp, and he moves back, then forward, filling her again and again and again.

He's not sure how he does it, but he takes it slow - at least, at first - cherishing every thrust and her texture and what she feels like when she clenches around him the way she does, right when he's buried as far as he can go, her walls closing in on him like he can't escape. And when she does, her face pinches, just a little, just enough to convey what she can't say.

But the build up is too much - either for her or for him, he's not sure. He thinks it's when she starts to truly verbalize what she needs. When she says _harder,_ or when she says _faster,_ or when she mutters nonsensical things, digging her nails into him wherever she can, whatever pain she might be inflicting on him doing nothing to deter his obedience, his pace picking up, the force between them exponentially rising, the way her hips always seem to meet his on a desperate wavelength of rhythm, erratic, not on beat or on a timescale but suddenly furious, suddenly like there's only them and the feeling because there isn't anything else.

He feels it when she's about to unravel. He can see it in her face, can see it in the way her eyes flicker and close, in the way her mouth opens against his, breath mingling together and how they're slick with sweat and how she says his name one last time before she jerks and surrenders, stomach and chest smashed up against his own, holding his neck with clenching hands and clamping him inside her with unforgiving intensity, the release as suffering and saccharine as she is.

He comes soon after, relishing the burn behind his eyes, the white hot explosion that makes his heart thrum, the dots that shroud his vision in the immediate moments as it subsides, slowly, slowly.

He leans over and gently places his forehead on hers, not able to hold up the rest of his body on shaky arms. He kisses her once before shifting off her to the side, keeping his dead weight from suffocating her. He's surprised when she rolls with him, her lying on top of him instead, still holding him inside her, bringing her palms to his chest and kissing him back. Then she pauses, their lips a centimeter away, her eyes open and roaming over his face. Her hands come up and her fingers slide over his flushed cheeks and his jaw, stopping there as she finds his eyes, noticing their liveliness and gleam and how he gazes back at her, the rise and fall of his chest moving her with him.

"I love you," she says.

His chest stops for a second, before continuing, and he smiles at her and says, "You're only saying that because I just gave you an explosive orgasm."

He whispers it lightly, but it doesn't take away from how he deflects her. He might not believe her now, and she can't blame him, because he shouldn't believe her. As true as it is to her, she's planted a seed of doubt in him. And she'll have to snuff it out.

But she has time. She can prove it to him that she's his again. And she can make love to him over and over and over.

She answers him by kissing him, combating his deflection with her tongue. Then she rolls off of him, the ache of him leaving the inside of her poignant, and lays against his side, her head finding his shoulder and her hand curving over his abdomen while their legs tangle. His hand finds her back, leisurely running it up and down.

They remain like that for a while, saying nothing and enjoying the afterglow. Katniss listens to his heartbeat, again, like those days ago in the hospital. It takes a while to slow to a lugubrious pace, matching the peacefulness between them.

Eventually, her mind strays, and she breaks the silence, saying, "The girls used to talk about you, back in 12."

"I heard a few things," he answers, distractedly messing with her hair, loose across the bed.

"Sometimes, I'd hear their stories about you and the slag heap. I usually ignored them, but they were really loud about it. Like they wanted everyone to know they got to make out with you."

She can almost hear the tease in his voice. "Were you jealous?"

"No," she says honestly. "But they'd make it sound like it was the most amazing thing to do. I'd sometimes...wonder about it."

"Are you telling me if I asked you to go to the slag heap with me, you_ would_ have?"

She blushes, though she's not sure why. "No! No, I just...I didn't see why it was such a big deal. It was kissing. What was so great about kissing?"

"Want me to remind you?" he says, voice light with suggestion. He turns facing her, while she remains laying on her side, head now on a pillow instead of his shoulder.

She smiles a little, but continues. "One day, a girl came up to me and asked me if you...if you fucked as good as you looked. Then I realized that it wasn't just kissing they were talking about."

He looks over her, deciding to say, "A lot of those 12 girls were sluts." He brings himself closer to her, then leans in and starts kissing her, easily opening her mouth. "Is that why you never asked me about it?"

"Well, I almost did," she admits, in between kisses. "Once or twice."

He groans. "I wish you did. See what you've been missing out on?"

"Mm," is all she's able to say as he pulls her against him, as she curls herself around him. And they slip back into a frenzy, making love a second time.

* * *

They doze off until sometime in the afternoon. Gale doesn't care about looking at a clock, still, if only for today.

When he wakes, he's starving. His stomach growls at the revelation. She laughs slightly at the noise, rubbing his stomach.

"I'm hungry, too," she says.

He looks down at her, running a hand through her hair. "I could make something here, or we could go somewhere..." he shrugs. "Or we could order in."

"Let's do that," she says at the last one. "I want us to stay here."

"Agreed," he grins, watching as she sits up, reaching toward the ground for her clothes. He stops her and pulls her back, arms around her middle and back to his chest.

"No," he says into her ear. "No clothes allowed."

"Gale," she breathes out, laughing. "I like clothes."

He grumbles something, but he doesn't let her go. She likes it.

"How about you take a shower with me, and I'll let you put your clothes back on."

It's a very attractive offer. Her stomach quirks at the thought of warm water and Gale and soap. One of her hands comes up and holds onto his arm that's wrapped around her.

"Okay."

He bites her earlobe. "Let's go right now."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"What about food?" she sighs into him, not really sure why she's resisting.

"Food can wait," he answers. "This can't."

Then he shifts around her, grabbing her wrist and dragging her to the bathroom. He ducks behind the curtain, flipping on the shower head while she stands in the unforgiving light of the bathroom. It's different than the bedroom. There's nothing she can't see, which means nothing _he_ can't see, and she still doesn't understand why this makes her so nervous when not an hour before they had done much more intimate things than stare at each other naked.

He appears behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder and a gentle hand on her hip. She flushes at how his eyes roam over her, how it makes her simultaneously fidget and want to cover herself up _and_ want him all over again. They're conflicting emotions. She bites her tongue, but it only serves to remind her how he bites it - and she thinks he's most likely infected her thoughts for the long run. But she can't find a reason to be upset about it.

When he touches the side of her breast, she shivers. He smiles into her.

"I kind of went crazy on you, didn't I?" he says, outlining the marking of a bruise with his finger. She glances at all the places that pop with dark reds and purples, like her neck - it's ravaged by the looks of it - and her shoulder. But she enjoys the markings. They are outrageously possessive.

"I liked it," she blurts.

An eyebrow quirks at her admittance, and a boyish smile forms on his face. "Good. You should probably get used to it."

She turns her head and kisses him, wondering why his smiles are suddenly the most wonderful things. He grips her tighter at the action, pulling her to face him, and it all escalates so quickly - more than quickly - and it's so easy to feel when they're fully bare against each other, standing upright with him growing against her, with her trying to arch up into him.

He breaks away for a second, eyes secure in lust. "We should get in the shower."

Then her mind goes back to water and soap and she's the one to pull him along with her through the curtain, the hotness of the water pounding her back while she stares up at him in front of her. He looks down at her, reaching his hands up into her hair and pushing it back, the warmth of the water cascading down her head as she tilts it up. He kisses her, and he can't seem to stop. His hands run down her hair, slowly becoming heavy with water, slick and smooth. It's a different experience, with her skin soaked and her thick lashes decorated with droplets. He likes this, being able to see all of her in the clear light, her eyes big, consuming him in between kisses. She pulls him under the spray, getting his hair wet while he follows her toward the cold tiles of the shower, hands gripping at her thighs. She smiles at him, the chill from the walls peeling onto her back as he falls right back into kissing her, massaging her legs with his thumbs. Then he scoops her up, just as easily as he did in the living room. He uses the side wall as leverage, his body half underneath the water spray, the other half against her while continuing to kiss her senseless.

She moves a little, as much as she can, and he abides, shifting his hips to slide right into her as if it's the most effortless thing he's learned to do. Her back slips along the wall as he pushes into her, water falling over his shoulders from the stream and blending together with them. He sets the pace faster than the last two times, creating a different kind of hectic need, the wetness of their skin forming a singular type of electricity. He feels it in the way she breathes against his face, arms wrapped behind his neck, pulling him closer and closer. She likes being close - she's suctioned to him the last two times, and it seems to be becoming a pattern. She likes to say his name, too, sometimes over and over. Sometimes, it's all she's able to say, and it does more to him than any fantasy could. Fantasies don't touch this. It unhinges his mind, and he does things he can't control, like bite her all over, or consume her mouth with his tongue, or he drives faster and faster and faster until the arms around his neck tighten and the walls around him tighten, and he's able to feel her wave through him, all her trembling and satisfaction pulverize his gut, and he's thrown over the edge, too. And it feels so good. It's everything and more. And he wants to do this with her every day for as long as he can.

In that moment, as he lets her slip down and touch the floor, her hands hanging onto his biceps to steady her balance, her face half-lidded but beaming up at him, he wants to tell her that he loves her. But he can't. Not yet. He can't shake that diluted fear that if he tells her, her eyes will change. She won't keep looking at him like she looks at him now. He'll blink and she'll grab her bag and dart back to the easy things. She'll leave this place, just like she left him before to that arena and to that war and to Peeta.

It's a silly thing to think, as she continues to smile at him. She says something about washing his hair, voice indulgent, leaning into him before reaching beside her to the small ledge that holds the shampoo. Because she wouldn't take the time out to wash his hair if she secretly didn't want to.

She reaches up to his hair with lathered hands, scratching her blunt nails against his scalp. He closes his eyes at the feeling, letting her work whatever magic she has in hair washing. She starts to laugh after a while, and he feels her sculpt his hair into some strange up-do that he can't see. Her smile is cheeky, and kind of sassy, and he mock glares at her, poking at her stomach and watching her jump away.

But hope trumps fear each time. He knows her. And she wouldn't be here if she didn't want to be. She wouldn't be smiling like she is. She wouldn't push him back under the water spray and finger all the soap out.

"Your turn," he says once she's done, going for the shampoo. She stops him by blocking his short path.

"Not yet," she says, biting her lip in a demure kind of way. "I want to wash you first."

"Wash me?" he raises an eyebrow, glancing over her skeptically, mostly to try to make her blush.

She straightens herself up to the challenge, and the view is really nice when she's so pert. "Yes, wash you."

He hums. "All of me?"

He sees her roll her eyes, making a noise under her breath, but he sees the sparkle lining her eye roll as she takes the towel off its rack and the soap off the ledge by the shampoo. She wets the towel and lathers it up quickly as he watches her, partly amused at how she avoids his eyes. Then she turns to stand before him, towel upraised, hesitating at where to start.

He holds his arms out on either side, a crooked grin forming on his face as she gives him a slight glare. "I'm ready when you are," he tells her, prodding her just to be annoying. He likes the little riled up looks she tends to give him when he gets on her nerves.

She ends up starting right under his neck, wiping the towel over his chest first, determinedly concentrating on washing then glancing up to him, knowing his eyes are watching her. Sometimes she slips and catches his eye, looking away fast and sometimes blushing, though he doesn't fully understand why. He chalks it up to her being shy, though she wasn't very shy a few minutes ago.

She continues down his chest and to his stomach, stopping at his hips and cleaning his sides, going up to his shoulders then his arms. She's able to feel all the muscle he has, through the towel. She watches them ripple, every once in a while, as she runs the cloth along him. It's fascinating to watch up close - she never realized how they weave into each other, simple but seamless. She catches his eye again when the towel dips into the crease of his right elbow, his gaze still intent and watchful. She half-relishes the attention, but the other half of her always fidgets.

"What?" she finally asks.

He gives her a funny look. "What, what?"

She feels stupid for asking. "Just...you keep looking at me."

"I like looking at you."

She pauses, going to wash his back, but not able to walk around him. Instead, she opts to wrap an arm around him, like a hug, running her hands up and down. Her only option is to look him directly in the eye.

"Why?"

He laughs, like she said a joke.

"Because you're beautiful."

"Oh," she says, all that she can come up with to answer. The compliment makes her stomach twinge, again.

He notices her puzzlement. "You don't think so?"

She brings her arms back around to her front. She avoids his eyes. "I haven't paid attention."

"Ah, Catnip," he sighs at her, and it comes out sounding like a scold. "You should look in the mirror, next time."

She gives him a soft glare. "I look in mirrors."

He shakes his head, reaching up to push back a stray, wet chunk of hair. "Not how others look."

He almost wants to tell her about the times he had to defend her from the little bastard kids who'd talk big, about her and others. How they'd talk about screwing that one Seam girl, if she wasn't so malnourished. He only fought them once. But telling her that would end up making her angry, and that's what he wants least of all.

"Whatever, Gale," she tells him, giving up on whatever argument that could turn out to be. She strays with the towel on his lower abdomen, letting it travel further and further down. "But thank you."

He inhales when she grabs his cock with the towel, still not able to figure out how she can be shy about cleaning him while he watches to being completely fine with handling him like this.

"For what?" he manages.

She smiles at him, rubbing him only twice before letting go. "For the compliment."

"It's not a compliment if it's fact," he says, sighing at the short-lived contact.

She shakes her head exasperatedly, but he stops her with a kiss, easily slipping the towel from her grasp.

"Your turn," he grins.

"Wait, I wasn't finished!"

"You are now." He turns away from her and rinses the towel and himself under the spray, re-lathering the cloth and looking over to her a bit devilishly. He brings the towel up and crowds around her, much less hesitant than she was. He starts like she did, at her neck, rubbing careful circles over his marks. Then he drifts across her shoulders to her arms, lifting her hair to wash across her back. He comes around to her front, gently roving her stomach and cradling her breasts and their bruises.

She watches him as intently as he did her, if only to try to pull some kind of reaction out of him. When he does catch her eye, he smiles, either lightly or suggestively depending on where he's rubbing the towel - and for whatever reason, these actions don't fail to make her cheeks grow a little warm, either. She just can't seem to keep herself in check.

He pinches her butt when he gets to it, compelling a squawk out of her and gaining a delightful laugh from him. She shoves at his shoulder.

When he's cleaned everything besides that one vital area, he rubs his hand with the soap.

"Gale..." she starts apprehensively, noticing the look in his eye.

"I never got to show you how good I was with my hands, did I?"

He says it with that teasingly seductive inflection. Her eyes dart to his hand as he places it on her stomach.

"I didn't get to show _you_ anything."

"Maybe later, if you really want to," he answers her, her eyes flicking up to him at the suggestion. He looks back to her before catching her hand from going toward him.

"Not right now," he tells her. "Later."

"But - "

He stops her by dragging his fingers down to the line of her folds, easing her open with remarkable simplicity. Her throat immediately plugs up, her hands coming up to his shoulders just for the sole purpose of staying upright. His forefinger circles her clit while his middle finger teases just below that - she's not sure what they're doing, but it's magic. How he makes her throb and ache, using the power of circling and rubbing...she closes her eyes and focuses on the feeling, digging her own fingers into the meat of his shoulder, her hip swaying to the caresses of his hand. She's not sure if her movement helps, or if it's doing anything at all, but she can't remain still. He keeps her like that for a while, spinning and spinning his fingers, until his hand lowers and his palm takes up the work of his forefinger, pushing at the home bundle of all her nerves. His other fingers press against the border of her entrance, just teasing like it's a joke, and it's the worst kind of pleasure that's able to exist. It makes her sweat, if she can sweat along with the rolling water droplets down her back. It makes her legs separate an inch more, spreading to hint for him to keep moving - as if he doesn't already know. It's like a silent request, beseeching him to end the endlessness of the terribly wonderful feeling - to add just enough to let her fall away. She feels it, already. She can't control it - she's not sure how. But she doesn't want to, never wants to if it'll be like this every time.

She almost says his name, bites her lips to keep it from spilling out. If she let's it, she won't stop saying it. The pressure will build faster. She'll come before he even puts his fingers inside her.

But he does. He plunges one through her entrance, just one, but the intrusion is welcome, so welcome, while he keeps palming her clit with the right amount of friction. His finger presses around her walls, somewhere, all around, and she breathes against his chest, the swirl of the hot air rising. When he adds another finger, she's not exactly sure why - why they feel just as good as his cock when they aren't as long or as thick or as all-consuming. Maybe it's because they add more pressure along the soft tissue just inside, or maybe it's because they're more flexible in their reach. Add that with the incessant palming, and she doesn't last long. Not as long as she wants to. She almost screams out when she orgasms, holding it back enough to form a strangled gibberish string of words. Her head falls into his chest, and she's suddenly exhausted - so exhausted - she's never gone through such an overdrive of sex before. Not consecutively like this. Possibly not this many times in a day.

Her body is languid and wobbly like jelly, and she lays across his front, a satisfied hum ringing through her. He slips his fingers out in one motion, rinsing off his hand under the water behind her before running his fingers over her hair, holding her with his other arm. A serene minute passes before she stands on her own, not sure how she's able to, and Gale reaches beside him to grab the shampoo, massaging her scalp with the soap. Her eyes fall shut at the gentle pulls and tugs, lolling her head as he combines all her wet hair together.

She peaks at him every once in a while, cherishing the discreet, contented look on his face, his strong arms moving around the mass of all her hair.

"I like your arms," she says, just because.

"My arms?" He glances at them as he continues working.

"Yeah." She reaches a hand out and touches the vein she sees running down from his shoulder to his bicep.

He smiles. "Why?"

She knows he's trying to get her to say it. Say that, yes, she thinks he's attractive - he must already know. But he wants her to verbalize it.

Instead, she says, "I don't know."

He finishes with her hair, tilting her head back into the water. "You don't know."

As he rinses the soap out, it's almost like he's massaging an answer out of her. "Well, I..."

"You think I'm hot, don't you?" he asks, voice riddled with a deliberate smugness.

She feels herself squirm under his hands, a different kind of squirm than a few minutes ago. She hesitates.

"It's okay," he teases. "You can admit it."

She narrows her eyes at him. "It's not like all those girls didn't tell you."

"Weren't you the one that said they didn't matter?"

He's chipping away at her stubbornness. She's not sure why she's trying to keep this silence against complimenting him, anyway.

"I said..." she struggles, glancing up at his smile. "That the girl before didn't matter."

He chuckles. "What makes the other ones matter?"

He finishes off with her hair, bringing her out from under the water and squeezing her hair. He grabs the conditioner. She watches him, biting her lip.

"There was a reason you went after them," she ends up with.

"Mm, yeah," he says, taking her hair back into his hands. "You."

She frowns a little. "Was I really?"

He half-shrugs. "You set the standard. But if I'm honest, I hadn't looked that hard."

She wonders if it would be extremely self-centered to tell him that she's glad he didn't find anyone - at least, nobody serious. She decides not to, leaning up and kissing him, instead. He reacts without effort, the kiss spiraling quickly into something heated and furious - it seems that there are no half-way kisses when it comes to them - though she finds it hard not to enjoy it. She's suddenly wide awake when he bites her.

"At this rate, we'll never leave the shower," he slurs against her.

She answers back by pulling him closer and running her hands along his arms. She whispers, "That's okay."

And they stay there until the water runs cold.

* * *

anon review replies:

Guest: thank you!

sassy: :) look, sex!

Calliope: i always thought there was a difference. (: and i always wanted to explore the idea that Katniss, at first, talked herself into loving Peeta, because she should love him. but then, at the end of Mockingjay, i knew she was in love, but it didn't feel like it, you know? she was all...sad and bleak, and maybe they'd grow together. maybe he would be that hope for her. and i was coming to terms with it. when i started writing this, i thought that i'd end this with Gale and Katniss becoming friends again. and that was _it_. initially, i didn't think i could make her fall in love with him, because she really did fall for Peeta. i thought making her fall out of love with Peeta would be too hard - i didn't think there would be that turning point for her, because how could there be when she was so messed up to begin with? all i really wanted was her to forgive Gale and get over Prim, and it would end with him seeing her off in the forest of District 12 once she got back, and they'd say goodbye, and she'd finally be okay, and she might be alive, because like you said - he does make her feel alive, right? she'd find that _something_. which she did, but - the hilarious thing is i just wrote smut for them. i still don't know how this happened. and that chapter _was_ short, sorry. but hopefully it was meaty with emotion. ;)

Nicole: mean girls, definitely ftw. you can't sit with us!  
lots of everthorne in this one - hopefully it satisfies. ;)

mae: i really didn't see half of what i put in that chapter happening when i was about to write it haha. katniss, finally growing up and doing what she wants.. it even makes me happy, lol. hahaha, and trust me, i feel like i could have a huge, long discussion with an open-minded Peeta/Katniss shipper, just for fun. i mean, i understand them as a couple, but the ending! it was such a sad ending. but in this chapter, i'm going to hint about that trust that you were talking about. it's a big thing, and it should be mentioned - but you can still love a person and have doubt about their trust, can't you? ;) at least, i think you can.

Rebeca: you're too sweet. thank you for your list! i'm glad you enjoy when my titles are song names. sometimes they're lyrics, too. music is really what motivates me or inspires me about certain ideas - especially when i'm not sure how to explain them. there have been several more songs that i haven't been able to list, just because they didn't match chapters the right way or completely. thank you about the dialogue, too! dialogue, over the years i've been writing fanfic and oneshots, usually aren't what i write a lot. dialogue is definitely one of the hardest things for me. and then this story happened, and i told myself i might hate doing certain scenes, and i might screw up, and people might call me out for it. but i've been able to get through it, and these reviewers have been so supportive and awesome, and it's been so much practice. :) and i was really hoping to explore Gale's character, since i love him, and since he wasn't really explored in the books. LOL about Peeta. i really did like him in the books - what girl wouldn't love him? and that was my whole problem. i immediately liked Gale more once Peeta began showing all his noble, awesome character traits. i thought he was the easy way out - and then Gale said and did stupid things and Peeta was so pretty and there, and i knew that Katniss/Gale friendship wouldn't win. didn't keep me from crying at the end, though. hugs!

Jamie: I KNOW. OMG. the scenes i imagined almost a whole year ago have finally been written and posted. i rejoiced and fist-pumped and did all kinds of things. and katniss. definitely didn't imagine her being how she was in that chapter - but it's also definitely a good thing. ;) and gale...he tried to move on and do something, as slutty and weak as it was. and hahaha, i kind of went overboard with all the smut...it's your fault. and some other reviewers who prodded - but then, kissing isn't enough, sometimes. this build up has been going for twenty-five chapters. i figured it was time. ;) and thank you so much about the story being unhurried and smooth! there are certainly things i can go back and fix that i'd find, i'm sure, but you've made me feel better about that.

m: definitely didn't post as quick as you wanted. -_- but it's here! LOL. annnddd i'm not sure if you read my review reply before reading the chapter or after, but catalina can't help gale. psh. he's just lost and wanting to move on. silly gale. but here's 9k words of that long awaited love and affection~(;

lexyrose: it's a large M with a side of fries. no, really. ;)

lizzy: ... :)

everyturn: timing is everything! and theirs truly sucks. and thank you! it was definitely a hard thing to get to. hahaha, hopefully it wasn't too twilight-ish. and right? i feel like Hazelle is the most awesome mom ever. she mom-ed Gale. that means she's the coolest.

anon: i've missed your reviews. ;) at least i didn't keep you waiting long! but you are seriously too nice to me. that last chapter was killer. Hazelle equals da bomb. for sure. thanks about Peeta, too! i figured he knew what he was doing, sending her to the Capitol. it didn't take a genius to know. LOL about the hospital scene. it would've been hilarious if she went back to him in the hospital AGAIN.


	27. a perfect sonnet

a/n; massive notes below!

chapter twenty-seven - a perfect sonnet

i've killed myself with changes trying to make things better  
and ended up becoming something other than what i planned to be  
now i believe that lovers should be draped in flowers  
and laid entwined together on a bed of clover  
and left there to sleep  
left there to dream of their happiness - bright eyes, a perfect sonnet

* * *

As promised, he lets Katniss put clothes on when they finish. But to his delight, she dresses in one of his shirts and underwear and nothing else, and he is completely okay with that.

He shoves on some sweatpants before he orders in Chinese for them, lounging on the couch in the living room, turning on the t.v.

Katniss walks in moments later, drying her hair with a towel, his shirt coming down to her upper-to-mid thigh. He feels as if he could stare at her all day.

"Chinese?" she asks, coming to sit by him.

"Ever tried it?"

"Once or twice."

She eases her head onto his shoulder like she's been doing it for years, sighing and closing her eyes. He curls his arm around her back, dangling his hand on her hip. It's strange to think he'll finally be able to fall into this - get used to all of these little things he's never had with her before. He'll learn what life is like with her, if she wants. He'll figure out the rest of the parts of her he doesn't know about. It's overwhelming and exciting all at once.

But first, he thinks, there's one thing they haven't done.

"Katniss?"

"Hm?"

"Will you..." he laughs. "Will you go on a date with me?"

She peeks up at him, surveying him with a smile. "Only if you let me live with you."

It's probably the easiest agreement he's ever had. "Deal."

Satisfied, she places her head back onto his shoulder.

"Katniss?" he starts again, a thought hitting him. "Are you going to take Paylor's offer?"

She's silent for a moment. "I want to."

"Are you sure?" he begins, tapping fingers against her back. "I mean, she could give you another job. You don't have to do all that we do..."

"But I want to," she repeats. "I already tagged along on one mission."

He thinks a second. "That was different. You know that."

"They could have killed me, like they could have killed you. How's that different?"

Gale shakes his head. "They weren't going to kill you. That's the difference. Other missions we go on...you could get injured. Bad things could happen."

She looks up at the tone of his voice. "I'd worry about you, too. I'd rather be beside you than staying here by myself. And I've already gone through your two injuries in the span of a week."

He sighs, trying to conjure up something to change her mind. All he comes up with is, "It's dangerous."

She narrows her eyes at him in thought, saying, "It wouldn't be worth doing if it wasn't."

He opens his mouth, about to say a protest, but she stops him.

"And I want to _do_ something. Something for the Capitol and Panem and the people. Not because I have to, but because I have a choice about it, this time." She looks down at his chest. "And my choice is that I want to."

Gale already knew he wouldn't be able to change her mind, keep her from doing what she needed. Putting a cage around her is the last thing he should do, as tempting as it might be. As much as he wants to protect her with all these walls. The past is evidence enough to prove what happens to her when someone surrounds her with too much cushion or protection or an enforced prohibition - either she breaks free, or she _breaks_. And he wants to see her burn through the sky.

So he'll let her be put in constant danger, running around with her bow and arrows, because for her? Living any other way isn't living at all.

Besides, as long as he's there to make sure she doesn't do anything too reckless, he can be happy about that.

"Okay," he says.

She glances up to him, smiling. "I'll go to Paylor's office tomorrow."

"It's not a full time job," he tells her, fingering her hair. "She'll probably give you another job, too."

She shrugs. "That's fine."

"You might not like it."

"If not, I'll quit."

He laughs. "And do what? Bug me in my office?"

"Don't pretend you wouldn't like that."

He exhales, pushing himself further into the cushion of the couch. He closes his eyes.

"We could be like Johanna and Anton…"

She answers with a snort. "I guess they're exactly the same as when I left?"

"They're tamer than I thought they'd be," Gale admits, smiling.

"Well, behind closed doors..." Katniss says, trailing.

"Behind closed doors," Gale agrees. Then he kisses her cheek, and they remain like that until the food arrives.

* * *

True to her word, Katniss seeks out Paylor the next day at her office, and she accepts the job offer. Paylor doesn't seem surprised in the slightest, though she doesn't take her acceptance with any type of flourish, either.

Unlike what Gale mentioned, however, Paylor says nothing about a second job. So when Katniss asks about it, Paylor looks her over for a second.

"Another job?"

Katniss almost fidgets under her gaze. "Yes."

Paylor's eyes drip with skepticism. They almost lure a glare out of Katniss.

"I was thinking something part-time at the hospital. Or - or anything."

It takes Paylor a few more moments to decide on what to say.

"You think you can handle all the blood in a hospital?"

Katniss shifts. "I can handle it better than before."

Paylor's brow uplifts, but she says, "Go ask your mom. If you throw up or can't stomach injuries, Johanna works in Weaponry. I'll send you there."

Katniss blinks at her easy answer. She had been expecting to support herself, but this was just fine. She smiles, then she leaves and hauls a cab to the hospital.

* * *

It doesn't take long for her mother to get her to sign a contract after a few minutes of hugging, adding Katniss on to work first as a shadow to her for thirty hours a week. Katniss prods for forty, to get more experience in (and because Gale works until five, Monday through Friday). Her mom relents after a short while.

Elaine looks at her as she signs an agreement form, glancing over a few details before giving up and not really caring, finding all the bare lines that need her signature.

"I knew it wouldn't take long," Elaine says, smiling.

"I didn't," Katniss answers.

Her mom shrugs a little. "I talked to Hazelle."

"I know. She told me."

"I mean, she told me about your conversation with her, before you left 12."

At this, Katniss looks mom's eyes are questioning, but Katniss isn't sure what she wants to hear. She shrugs. "I think I always knew," she comes up with, looking back down to the papers. "Peeta..." and it's so easy to say his name. "He took it well. Better than I could hope for."

After a few moments, her mom reaches over and touches Katniss' hand. "I'm happy you came back."

And Katniss thinks it means just as much to her mother as it did to Gale.

"Me too," she says, honestly.

Then her mom smiles. "Hazelle and I always thought you two would end up together."

Katniss sighs at that. She had caught onto that vibe, years ago, when her mother would ask about him. It had faded over time, after Katniss had given no inclination toward him. "I kind of ignored it when I was younger."

Her mom seems surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I didn't want relationships."

"Oh, I knew _that_," Elaine laughs. "But I'm guessing now...?"

Katniss hides a smile. "Maybe."

Elaine raises a brow. "Maybe?"

"Well, I'm going to live with him. And we're going to start dating..."

Her eyes twinkle. "Good."

"Also, um..." Katniss hesitates, really wishing she didn't have to ask, and cursing herself that she promised Gale she'd ask. "I'm going to need some of those, uh,_ herbs._"

Elaine stares at her for a while before realization dawns on her face. Her mouth parts, and Katniss cringes, but Elaine only starts to laugh.

"Sure thing, sweetie," she says, though Katniss shrinks in a kind of humiliation. "We've got some on stock. I'll give it to you before you leave."

"Great," Katniss mutters under her breath, handing the finished papers toward her mom.

"Don't worry," she tells her, noticing her discomfort and going to stand. "I had a feeling Gale would be a little eager when you got back."

The statement does nothing to quell Katniss' embarrassment. She decides not to give an answer.

* * *

"To Katniss' homecoming! And to her becoming the newest squad member!"

Jack's the one to start the toast, as jubilant as ever, even after a bear hug and a kiss on the cheek. The others seem to have their emotions in check (Johanna looks entirely too smug when she catches Katniss' eye), though they gave her hugs, as well. They're all just as warm as Katniss remembers, inviting and enthusiastic in their own ways - Jack easily taking first place.

And it seems Gale and Katniss don't have to say a word about anything that happened between them. They all have this look when they glance toward them, eying Gale's arm that's across the top of her chair, and they almost make Katniss blush - if only because they don't say a word about it.

It's only when Gale gets up to go to the bathroom that Johanna acts on her smug look, leans over, and says, "I take it the sex was good?"

Katniss opens her mouth before making sure the rest of the table wasn't paying attention. Then she nonchalantly shrugs. "You should know."

"Oh, please," she says, rolling her eyes. "He's been pining for you for half his life. He must have gone _wild_."

The tone of Johanna's voice makes Katniss' neck throb, remembering the way his teeth could cut against her skin. And how his fingers wrapped in her hair and weakened her body more than...more than...she didn't know. But she was way too sore, today.

"Maybe he kind of did..." she allows.

"Oh, come off it, Katniss," Johanna laughs. "Your face says it all. Not to mention you're wearing a scarf..."

At this, Katniss immediately tugs at it. "What's wrong with scarves? I _like_ scarves."

"Inside a heated building?" Johanna gives her a pointed look.

Katniss glares, then pushes her away with her hand.

"You're wearing a turtleneck," Katniss accuses.

"I _like_ turtlenecks," Johanna snaps back mockingly, before laughing at the angry expression on Katniss' face.

"I bet Anton likes turtlenecks, too."

Anton's head comes up at his name. "What?"

"Turtlenecks," Johanna tells him, tugging at hers.

"What about them?" he asks.

"I love turtlenecks!" Jack says from across the table.

Then Anton suddenly has a knowing look in his eyes. He leans to her ear.

"I'd rather take you out of it than have you wear it."

"C'mon, guys," Jack whines as he looks at them. "I'm trying to enjoy actual conversation."

When they ignore him, he glances over to Katniss, smiling.

"See what I had to deal with while you were gone?"

"What all of us had to deal with," Bolts mutters, laughing gruffly while Johanna and Anton seem to be ignoring all of them.

"We can always move to a different table," Katniss suggests.

"See," Jack says, pointing at her. "This is why I missed you so much."

"Not as much as I did," Gale interrupts, coming around to sit back into the chair beside her.

"Tell us something we don't know," Bolts smiles.

"Seriously, Katniss, you should have seen this guy," Jack says, jabbing his thumb in Gale's direction. "He hardly hung out with us at all."

Gale sighs loudly. "I did, too."

"He was all dopey and depressed..."

"Stop exaggerating."

"I'm hardly exaggerating," Jack says, raising his hands. "Right, Bolts?"

Bolts shakes his head, looking apologetically toward Gale. "Sorry, kid, but I have to side with Jack on this one."

Gale's eyes dull in annoyance. "I wasn't that bad."

Johanna breaks off her close-quartered conversation with Anton to give Gale a look - resembling the pointed one she gave Katniss' scarf.

"Stop trying to lie, Gale."

"Yeah, Gale, stop," Anton chimes in.

Gale groans and rubs at his face, but Katniss holds back a small smile and pokes him.

"Dopey and depressed?"

He looks down at her, narrowing his eyes. Then he leans closer to her ear and says, relenting, "Maybe a little."

"A little?"

"Don't push it," he grumbles.

"Poor dopey Gale," she continues teasing, not able to help herself. "Brooding and moody..."

"Cut it out," he says, poking at her stomach. She laughs.

"Sorry," she says, trying not to smile at the glare from him. Then she decides to kiss him in front of everybody, not caring that they'll all see, because why should she?

"Look!" shouts Jack, after a moment. "Gale's smiling! Does anyone else feel an earthquake happening?"

Gale reaches into his glass for an ice cube, pulling it out and throwing it at Jack. "Shut up."

Jack yelps as it hits his face, but Katniss starts laughing at the both of them.

Then she takes the idea and begins throwing ice at Johanna and Anton.

* * *

Time remains inconsistent as she becomes accustomed to life there, with her new job and responsibilities. Some days go by fast, others go by slow. But she enjoys them, as days pass into weeks, and weeks into months.

She's gotten better at running, again. She can almost stay up with Gale the whole five miles, though she still needs a few more weeks until he stops going easy on her. Or until he stops being hard on her. He sometimes runs a few yards ahead of her just to see if she can catch up. Other times, he'll jog leisurely beside her, hardly breathing, just to make her mad.

She's starting to become better at the hospital, too. At the beginning, there was a lot to do - shadowing her mother was exhausting. From the ICU to surgeries to examining children for check-ups. Half the time she wondered why she was there - but she knew why. This was mostly to be close to Prim. This is what Prim would do, if she could. She'd live through her this way.

But it's a continuous struggle some days. Sometimes, she'll think about how much better she'd be at handling weapons than handling people. It's tempting, and sometimes she wants to quit. And maybe one of these days, she will. But being around her mother is worth it, and she feels the closest to Prim when she sees patients smile or heal fully from her taking care of them.

There are days when she's let off early, either because the hospital is slow or there's enough staff to cover all the patients. When that happens, she goes back to the apartment, sometimes an hour, sometimes two hours, before Gale gets off work. Sometimes she tries to cook dinner. And when she does, he'll get home and lean against the opening of the kitchen, looking at her and smirking with crossed arms.

"Is this something I should get used to?" he says, the first time he walks in on her slaving away between pans.

She gives him a look. "Definitely not."

"Are you sure?" he asks, starting to walk toward her.

"You know I'm not good at cooking," she says. "And I don't always get off work early."

"Cooking's like running." He comes up behind her. "If you made dinner every night, you'd get really good at it."

"I am_ not_ cooking every night."

"I can help," he says, nuzzling her neck.

Katniss sighs, lolling her head to the side. "Maybe sometimes..."

Then he starts kissing her, and they forget about cooking altogether.

And later, they order takeout.

* * *

There are some days when Katniss wakes up before Gale does, and she looks at him for a while. She's never wakes him, the burdens of the day still sleeping within him, repressed and absent, his face lax and peaceful.

When the dawn seeps through the blinds, and it washes over them, and he stirs just a little, in those few moments before he opens his eyes - and in those few moments after he does, eyes falling on her before he smiles - she _knows_ it and _feels_ it and holds it _close_.

And in one of those fateful mornings, after she gets out of the shower and goes to the dresser to pull out her clothes, her hands wrap around something sturdy and hard. She pushes away the shirt and looks down at her old journal - the gift Peeta had given her so long ago. She looks at it for a moment before taking it out. She holds it in her hands, then she goes and sits on the corner of the bed, flipping through it and glancing over her old writings, the old things she tried to look toward and believe in. She remembers wishing and hoping to see what it was that she was supposed to see.

She places a palm on one of the blank pages in the middle of the journal, then she stands and finds a pen on the desk by the window. She writes down the names of the squad, _Johanna_ and _Anton_ and _Jack_ and_ Bolts_ and _Paylor_, and she writes down _Annie_ and _Finnick_ and _Prim_ and _Elaine_ and_ Hazelle_ and _Peeta,_ the ink swirling out effortlessly from the tip of the pen.

And on a different page, a clean, pure, undisturbed page, she writes _Gale Hawthorne,_ big and bold enough to fill up all the white.

He walks in from the shower minutes later, and she's still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a closed journal. He walks around and notices that she's crying.

"Hey," he starts. "What's - "

But when she looks up at him, she smiles, all watery and open and carefree. She hops off the bed and jumps into him with a hug and she says, "Gale?"

He brings his arms slowly around her, eying the journal she had thrown onto the comforter. "What?"

She squeezes him and whispers into his ear.

"I'm happy."

He smiles against her, holds her tight.

And he says, "I'm happy, too."

* * *

»fin - - - ¤

* * *

a/n; one year and twenty-seven chapters later, it's _finally_ finished. please don't look at me while i cry.

anon review replies:

kasey: here's a towel to wipe yourself off from all that sweating you probably did. ;D

mae: ;D ugh, can i just tell you how much i've enjoyed your reviews throughout this whole thing? because i'm going to miss them. so much.

Nicole: ;)

Jaime: :D you're welcome! and you're right, it'll work itself out in time - and actions are pretty telling too, if you know what i mean. i'm gonna talk about the sequel further down the page, so you can check that out. ;) and omg, i love that you had a dream. that's so cool and awesome at the same time. now i really want to write them arguing in a bathroom, just for fun. LOLL. thanks for being here for the ride!

Rebeca: isn't that such a great thought? i agree, it makes me happy, too. i definitely agree about the things you said about Gale. that's why i liked him so much - he's so imperfect and challenging, and Katniss is so imperfect and challenging, too. making them work can be as easy as it is hard. that's what's so fun about their relationship. i'm glad this let you see more sides of them - hopefully as in character as they could be - along with their growth. thanks for following this. it means so much. HUGS AND KISSES.

Calliope: can you hear me singing? la la la la happinesss from your reviews la la la. yeah - about me being indecisive with Peeta/Kat/Gale - i think it was mostly just me trying to be okay with the way Mockingjay ended. i looked up arguments/forums about it, just because i was so obsessive and sad. but seriously? i don't see how i could have ended it with being just friends anyway. i mean, really, i couldn't _not_ let them make-out and have sexy sex. ;) OMG HUGS! i'm glad i was born, too. YOU ARE SO NICE TO ME.

Guest: LOVE.

everyturn: :D yay! thank you so much. and thanks for following this for the whole way - you've been here since the beginning (or it sure feels like since the beginning) and i'll love you forever for that!~

NOTES: as i've already told just about all of you reviews over and over again (and probably annoyingly), thank you for all of your support. some of you for the awesome lengthy and thoughtfulness of your reviews, and how you took out so much time to tell me your thoughts and opinions. _loved_ them. and from the first ones who reviewed, favorited, followed, to the ones who are just now reading it, to the ones who i'll never talk to but who enjoyed it silently - and even to the ones who didn't. thanks for giving it a chance. i poured a lot of myself into this, and the feedback was more than i could ask for. it was fun, challenging, at times irritating and rough, but it came out to be worth it. i am now selfishly, wholly satisfied, and i hope y'all are, too.

thanks to all those reviewers who i PM'd constantly with ongoing conversation and all kinds of thoughtful ideas. you all know who you are, and you guys are every synonym of incredible, awesome, and cool.

and special thanks to **elle81**, for all those conversations we seemed to have about characters and the decisions they would/could make. also, you guys should thank her for the catfight and the other idea of Hazelle and Katniss' mom communicating to each other. those genius ideas were all hers. i just really liked them, found a place for them, and wrote them.

and finally - some of you guys have wanted a sequel. and i've been thinking about one. it most likely won't be in the format that this one's in (slow-moving and day by day), but perhaps more in interconnected one-shots or shorts about the Galeniss relationship and the squad members and their adventures together, crazy people, and daily life. if i _do_ start it, it won't be as frequently updated as this one, but it'll continue what this story starts. if it doesn't happen, well...it'll always be an idea at the back of my mind. ;)

hugs and kisses!~


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